


Trials 03: Torres' Trials

by TextheTallOne



Series: Trials Series [3]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friendship/Love, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-02
Updated: 2014-02-02
Packaged: 2018-01-10 21:15:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 53,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1164600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TextheTallOne/pseuds/TextheTallOne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The ongoing engineering crisis aboard Voyager is frustrating Chief Engineer B'Elanna Torres. Add to that, she's trying to discover why there's an undercurrent of some negative emotion coming from Malista and growing closer in an intimate relationship with Tom Paris... B'Elanna doesn't deal well with stress.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Third in the Trials Series. Written in Season 3 or 4.

TORRES' TRIALS  
by TerriTrek

Chief Engineer B'Elanna Torres of the Federation Starship Voyager was not in a very good mood. She wasn't even sure she'd recognize a good mood. It had been over six weeks since she'd had one that lasted more than twenty minutes. That was when she'd decided to stop seeing Tom Paris socially. Though they'd since mutually decided that had been a mistake, things still weren't quite the same as before.

She peered through a microscope at a burned, melted piece of material and muttered several Klingon curses and epithets under her breath. It was at times like these she was glad that no one else in Engineering spoke Klingon. That meant she didn't have to censor herself.

"There's nothing left to look at!" she grumbled, sitting back in her chair.

Lieutenant Joe Carey looked up from his work at a nearby console, unsure if she was addressing him or continuing her monologue. 

She waved a hand at him. "Nothing. I can't tell a thing from looking at the power couplings after they've fused. We're no closer to solving this than we were two weeks ago."

The problem had first come to their attention with a minor disaster. From evidence pieced together by Carey, a power coupling had fused, causing a short which caused a power converter to overload which in turn ignited a plasma leak---all of which resulted in a hull breach in Cargo Bay 1---resulting in injury to Crewman Gerron, Crewman Shadow, and Lieutenant Tom Paris, and causing the death of Crewman Niko Dishon. Since that time, power couplings all over the ship had been giving up the ghost at a higher rate than was normal for obsolescence to be a factor.

Two weeks later, B'Elanna Torres and her crew were no closer to solving the riddle. It annoyed her. And her frustration with being unable to resolve the problem, resulted in her bad mood. She sighed deeply. Her mind had been hashing and rehashing every possible technical foul-up that could cause failure or overload in the power couplings. She was fresh out of ideas. So was the rest of her staff.

She glanced carelessly at the chronometer, then snapped to attention. She had a date with Tom Paris in less than thirty minutes. She'd gotten busy and lost track of time---as usual. "Carey, think of something! The power couplings are critical!"

"Working on it, Lieutenant," her chief assistant replied calmly, used to such outbursts by now. He returned his attention to his own station.

She dashed out of Engineering, heading straight for her quarters. She could use a little relaxation with the charming helmsman of Voyager. Kahless knew she needed to get her mind off those lousy power couplings! And her relationship with Tom was the only positive note in the last six weeks. They were growing closer, getting to know each other beyond the superficial. Or at least she hoped they were. 

Sometimes she felt that Tom was holding her at arm's length, letting her get only so close---but not too close. Except physically. Physically, they were very affectionate with each other. And very compatible. Though they hadn't taken the physical side of their relationship too far. Each of them was half afraid to become intimate---it would change their relationship irrevocably. 

Torres wasn't sure how to interpret his behavior. It was as if Tom was distancing himself from her emotionally, but wanted her physically close. Sometimes she even felt he was using displays of affection to distract her---to keep her from getting too close emotionally. 

The idea bothered her. Maybe she should talk to him about it? Again.

**********

Walter Baxter was standing outside Cargo Bay One looking distressed when Ensign George Natwick came striding by on his way to work out in the gym. Baxter needed advice from someone and Natwick was the only one in sight. Slight help was better than no help at all. "George! I need to ask you something."

"What?"

"Listen, I know you're kind of a friend of hers so you might know---."

"Get to the point, Baxter. I want to work out before I start my new class this evening," Natwick growled, restlessly flicking his towel at the wall.

"Well, Malista Shadow came into the Cargo Bay a little while ago, and she seemed to be fine. She was working on a cargo lifter one minute, the next minute I turn around and she's sitting on the floor crying. I don't know what to do. I tried to talk to her, but she just ignored me. Who should I call? Sickbay? Commander Chakotay? He's been counseling her. The captain? Who should I call?"

"Baxter, you just don't have a clue. Don't you listen to the ship's gossip? It's Beta shift right? He should be off duty by now." Natwick slapped his commbadge. "Ensign Natwick to Ensign Kim."

"Kim here. Go ahead." From the background noise, Harry Kim was in the turbolift.

"Kim, you're needed in Cargo Bay One. As soon as possible."

"Needed for what?"

Natwick replied, "Malista's down here and pretty upset according to Baxter."

"Be right there! Kim out." He must have rerouted the turbolift. He was at the Cargo Bay doors in less than two minutes. 

Baxter and Natwick were still standing in the corridor. Natwick handed Kim a box of tissues he'd procured from a nearby storage facility. "You'll probably need these, little one," he said and walked away with his usual strut. 

"Thanks, George!" Kim stared with surprise at the tissues. Just when he was ready to write Natwick off as a Neanderthal, insensitive jerk---he'd do something thoughtful---then he'd ruin it by taking a potshot at Kim. Who could figure this guy out? Aw, who wanted to!?

Harry brushed by Baxter and into the Cargo Bay. He found Malista sitting cross-legged on the floor near the outside bulkhead. She was rocking back and forth, her face covered by her hands, as she cried silently, sobs racking her body. She was facing the patched place on the bulkhead. The exact place where a hull breach had caused the death of her best friend, Niko Dishon, and had almost killed Malista, Tom Paris, and Gerron.

"Malista," he said softly, to announce his presence and avoid startling her. She didn't respond. Harry let himself down on the floor next to her, slipping his arm around her back. As soon as he touched her, she threw her arms around him and rested her head on his chest as she sobbed. The hand on her back patted gently. With the other hand, he presented the box of tissues. She seized a few and began mopping her face and blowing her nose.

After a few minutes of this, the tears slowed to a trickle. She tried hiding her face behind her shoulder-length hair. "I must l-l-look awful," she stuttered soggily. "And I g-g-got your uniform all w-w-wet!"

"That's okay. Now, want to talk about it?" Harry said calmly. 

She closed her eyes. "Not really. I think---it all just caught up with me. Niko--- I don't think I even cried for him before. When I came in here---"

"The first time since the accident?" Kim prompted gently.

"Yes. I know it's been almost two months---" 

"Time doesn't matter when it comes to grieving," he said. "A lot of people can't or don't react at the time of the death. They're in shock or having to cope with other things. When you lose someone you care about---any little thing can remind you---and all of a sudden, you feel just as bad as when it first happened."

She blinked up at him, her dark green eyes glistening like rain-drenched leaves. "How did you know?"

He smiled faintly. "I've been through it myself. When my grandmother died. She was very special to me. Two years after her funeral, I walked into a bakery and caught the scent of gingerbread---and I wanted to cry because I knew she'd---that's when I finally realized--- she was really gone. She wouldn't be making gingerbread men with me any more." His own eyes were filling with tears. One spilled over and trickled down his cheek.

Malista caught it on her finger and wiped it away. "Thanks, Harry. I appreciate your sharing that with me. I'm glad I'm not the only one with delayed reactions."

"It takes time," Harry said. He almost smiled as she made an impatient noise. "I know. You've heard that from Tom---and Chakotay---and B'Elanna---and me---but that doesn't make it less true. There's some truth to the saying that time heals all wounds. Just take your time. You've had a lot of adjustments to make. But remember, you don't have to face everything on your own. I'm here if you need me. Tom will help you---whether you want him to or not, since he's appointed himself your older brother. And if you need a woman's touch, B'Elanna or Captain Janeway or Kes would lend you an ear. Just stay away from the Delaneys and their advice," Kim warned mockingly.

He hadn't been happy with the Delaneys since they had aided and abetted Malista in a plan to drive him insane with jealousy---and done a damned good job of it, too. He got up and helped her to her feet. 

"Oh, gosh. What did Baxter tell you when he called you?" she asked, suddenly realizing from her stiffness how long she must have been sitting there.

"I think you scared Baxter," Harry teased, slipping his arm around her back as they walked toward the exit. "Actually, he didn't call me. Natwick did."

"George Natwick?" She was dumbfounded. 

Harry held up the box of tissues. "He even provided these. There's evidently more to the man than just muscles. You know, I think he really likes you." He watched carefully for her reaction. He knew it was silly for him to feel---jealous--- but---somehow he couldn't help it. It wasn't the first time he'd felt jealous of this woman. He'd never been this jealous or possessive with Libby. He was beginning to wonder what was wrong with him.

Malista's eyebrows rose then fell into a frown. "If George Natwick likes me, he has a funny way of showing it. First he scares me out of my mind, then he tries to embarrass me to death at that party---I don't think so, Harry." She almost never contradicted Harry. Somehow it made him feel better. She looked down self-consciously as they passed Baxter on their way out into the corridor. Harry smiled at the man, grateful that he'd been concerned enough for Malista to seek help.

"Where are we going?" Harry asked as they turned around the corner.

"To my quarters," Malista said. "I have to---clean up. I'm not going to be seen in public looking like this."

Harry studied her expression suspiciously. "How do I know this isn't part of some nefarious plan to get me alone? In your quarters? Alone?"

"You said alone twice," Malista pointed out. 

"I was using repetition for emphasis," Kim explained kindly. Tom Paris' sense of humor was definitely rubbing off on him.

"Oh."

"Well?"

"Well, what?" she asked.

"Well, is this part of some nefarious plan to get me alone in your quarters so you can take advantage of me?" Harry elucidated. 

She wrinkled her nose at him. "No."

"Why not?" he demanded, trying to look crushed.

She checked the chronometer on her wrist. "Because we're supposed to meet Tom and B'Elanna in fifteen minutes."

"No nefarious plan?" Harry said with exaggerated disappointment.

"No. Not in only fifteen minutes," she added. "My nefarious plans usually take several hours to play themselves out."

Harry perked up. "Really?"

Malista entered the key code to her quarters. "Why don't you go get out of uniform and meet me back here in ten minutes?"

"But when---?"

"After dinner?" She smiled at him mischievously. "Once we leave Tom and B'Elanna to their own devices, we can continue with life lesson number---three?"

"Oh, yes! Ten minutes, ma'am!" Harry dashed out of sight. 

Malista looked once more at her chronometer. "Yikes!" She dashed for the shower.

****************

Tom Paris was exactly on time---as usual. B'Elanna Torres was running late---as usual. She greeted him at the door of her quarters wearing her maroon robe, hair brush in hand. "I'll just be a minute. Come in and sit down," she said quickly, as she retreated to her dressing area.

Tom noticed with amusement that she was barefoot. She had cute toes. He wondered idly if she ever painted her toenails. He strolled in, taking his time as he toured her living area with his eyes. True, he'd been in her cabin before---a month or so ago, but without B'Elanna's nearness to distract him, he was capable of noticing more details. A stone statue on the table---that was new. He sat on the couch and examined it more closely. Some kind of predatory bird. The carving was exquisitely detailed in blue Alatiran marble. The feathers looked as if they would be soft to the touch, the eyes of the bird alert---quite an accomplishment for the artist. "Where did you get this?" he called out.

"What?" she answered, her voice slightly breathless as she searched frantically for her other shoe under her bed.

"The carving of the bird," he specified. "It's beautiful."

"Oh, it was a birthday gift from Chakotay. It's an eagle, a Terran bird."

Now he remembered. He'd overheard Chakotay talking with Janeway about his gift for B'Elanna, but he didn't remember seeing it before. It must have been longer than he'd thought since he'd been in her cabin. "Did he replicate it?"

She appeared in the doorway, every hair in place, wearing a red vee-necked tee-shirt, matching casual slacks, and sandals. "No, he replicated the marble then did the carving himself."

"You look---great," Paris said, running his eyes over her. He looked back at the carving wistfully. He should have known that anything Chakotay did for B'Elanna would be a work of art---or a labor of love? "It must have taken him a long time. I wish I had some artistic ability like that."

She came forward and stood beside him. "Did you ever try it?"

His eyes darkened, as if a half-forgotten memory was pulling at him mentally. "No, I never tried carving. I did try drawing---" He stopped and she could almost see him change gears---to stop himself from sharing something hurtful. "Somehow, my teachers didn't appreciate my drawings of nudes!" he joked. "Especially since one or two of them were my models---without their knowledge or consent, of course! What I hadn't actually seen---I made up."

She thumped his arm. "And how old were you?"

He frowned thoughtfully. "Ten? Maybe twelve."

"You started early," Torres commented. She swallowed her disappointment at the sudden turn of the conversation. She'd thought for just an instant that he might actually tell her something---personal. But he seemed determined to keep her at a distance---figuratively, if not literally. 

"Let's just say I was inspired," Tom said with a smile. 

It was what Torres privately referred to as Smile Number Two. Polite, friendly, but with no real warmth---and it didn't go beyond his lips to the rest of his face. She stifled a sigh of impatience. She hated this retreat that he made whenever she got close to the real Tom Paris. She didn't know how much longer she could pretend she didn't notice. Or even if she should keep up the pretense. How long would they have to know each other before he would open up? 

Paris could tell she was getting impatient. He didn't know why. "Are you ready?"

She nodded without speaking. He looped her arm through his and they headed for Sandrine's.

****************

Harry and Malista were twenty minutes late. The moment they arrived they could tell: There was trouble in Paradise. The tension in the air was a tangible, living thing that wrapped its coils around Kim and Shadow as they approached the table in Sandrine's.

Tom was smiling---his cool, 'who, me?' smile. Smile Number Three. B'Elanna was staring into the depths of the drink on the table before her. She was not smiling---at all. 

"B'Elanna? Come on, it was a joke," Tom said coaxingly. She didn't answer or look up. Giving up momentarily, he turned to greet the newcomers. "Hi, Harry. Malista." 

"Tom, B'Elanna," Kim said cautiously. "Sorry we're late."

Torres lifted her gaze, keeping her eyes on Kim and Shadow, ignoring Paris' presence. "Some kind of emergency?" the chief engineer asked. She'd assigned Shadow to repair a cargo lifter and hadn't seen her since the end of the shift.

Malista squirmed self-consciously as she seated herself. She avoided everyone's eyes, by looking around for the holographic Sandrine to order a drink. "Not really. I got the lifter fixed. It was another power coupling problem."

Paris looked at Harry Kim. Malista looked upset. Harry shook his head slightly. Tom decided to let it drop. If it was something he needed to know, Harry would tell him later. 

Torres let out a hiss under her breath, distracted by the words 'power couplings'. "Another one? What is going on with those things?! We've checked the parts, we've checked the replicator, we've checked and rechecked the coupling connectors in the consoles and the power sources---what is going on?"

Harry shrugged. 

Malista frowned thoughtfully. "I wonder---"

"What?" B'Elanna pounced, ready for any new idea for dealing with the ongoing crisis that haunted even her dreams.

Malista shook her head with a rueful smile. "No, never mind. It's too simple---I'm sure someone thought of it already." Harry and B'Elanna were engineering wizards---surely her own idea was a waste of their time.

"Sometimes the simplest solutions get overlooked," Harry said. "What's your idea?"

"B'Elanna, like you said we checked the couplings in place in the system, right?" she verified shyly.

Torres nodded encouragingly.

"We checked the replicator to see if it was working efficiently?"

"Of course."

"Well," Malista offered tentatively, "did anyone---check the replicator matrix?" 

"What?" Paris asked for clarification. He didn't know much about how replicators actually worked---he'd never been interested enough to learn since it didn't have anything to do with propulsion or navigation.

B'Elanna and Harry quickly jumped on Malista's suggestion. "You mean the power coupling model might have a flaw?" Torres said. She slammed her fist down on the table. She couldn't believe she'd overlooked the possibility. It was so simple---she'd been looking for a complex problem---not a basic, amateurish mistake!

"A microfracture wouldn't show up in the finished product unless you used a high power of magnitude---" Harry began.

"Which we didn't bother to use until after the power couplings fused!" Torres added.

"And at that point, the microfracture would be lost amid the other damage done when the coupling fused," Shadow finished.

The three engineering types were going over the possibilities in their heads. Paris looked at each thoughtful face bemusedly. "Why do I suddenly feel superfluous?"

"What?" Harry asked, absent-mindedly.

"Let's go find out!" Torres bounced to her feet and charged out of the holodeck, followed in quick succession by Shadow and Kim.

Paris was left sitting all alone at the table for four. "Was it something I said?" he called after them, only half-kidding. 

**************

B'Elanna Torres couldn't bear to look the captain in the eyes as she gave her report at the senior staff meeting. "Malista was right. When Engineering noticed the depleted supply of power couplings available, we began using the replicator to create replacements. Unfortunately," she squirmed in her chair as she continued, "no one thought to check the coupling that was used as the model for the replication process. We just assumed it was unflawed. Microfractures are almost unheard of when dealing with birullian alloys. So the matrix for the replication was flawed and that meant---"

"That every time a new power coupling was replicated, the flaw was duplicated as well," Harry Kim completed her thought. 

"And now?" Janeway prompted.

"Now," Torres said grimly, "we have to find a source of birullian so we can manufacture our own replacements. Which isn't likely. Or we have to find one unflawed power coupling and use it for the replicator matrix. And, we have to replace every power coupling we've changed out in the past six months---which is when the original stock was depleted."

Tom whistled at the size of the job before them. The power couplings were incorporated into every major system in the ship and were essential in delivering power safely to the consoles.

Janeway raised an eyebrow at her helm officer. "Exactly, Mr. Paris. Lieutenant Torres, I would like you to work with Commander Chakotay on a revised duty roster to handle the increased workload."

"We may want to shift all Maintenance and Repair crew to two shifts, rather than three," Chakotay suggested. "That would minimize down time and increase the number of personnel available. We could also arrange to recruit personnel from other departments to assist on a temporary basis." 

Janeway nodded her approval of that suggestion. "Just be sure they're trained in safety protocols. We need to get this work done as quickly as possible, but we don't want any accidents. And by the way, B'Elanna, tell Malista that was good detective work."

****************

Malista finally got off duty after twelve straight of hours of climbing in, out, around, and through the consoles and Jefferies tubes in Engineering which had been the first priority. She wanted nothing more than to relax so she went by her quarters and changed out of her uniform into a long white skirt and green peasant blouse. She picked up her datapadd. Harry Kim was still on the bridge, so she went to Sandrine's alone. She was so proud of herself that she could do that now. She didn't need an escort to protect her. It might sound like a strange thing to be proud of, but only to someone who didn't know how withdrawn and socially inept she'd been just a few months before.

Tom Paris was there alone. The holocharacters were his only companions. His expression suddenly changed from melancholy to polite friendliness as he heard her approach. "Hi, Malista. Want to learn to play pool?"

She looked him over carefully, without speaking, trying to decide what to say.

His smile dropped away. "No?"

She gazed at him, wide-eyed. "What did you do?" she finally asked.

He flinched guiltily, but caught himself and donned his mask of casual unconcern as he returned his attention to his next shot. He drew back the cue---and immediately scratched. "Nothing. Exactly."

"Uh-huh," she muttered skeptically. 

His blue eyes met her green ones. "What did she say?" He tried to sound indifferent, but couldn't quite bring it off. He reached into the pocket and fished the cue ball out of the pocket.

"Nothing. But I could tell when Harry and I joined you last night that something was wrong. And she wasn't in a very good mood today," Malista retorted, seating herself on a bar stool. She waited patiently for him to finish racking the balls once more.

Paris shrugged. "She's just upset about the power coupling situation. It's a lot more work. And it makes her madder because it's work that should be unnecessary. And she's furious she didn't think of it sooner."

"Funny. I'd think she'd feel better now that she's identified the problem."

He turned, planted his cue stick on the floor, and leaned on it. "You mean since you identified the problem?"

Malista frowned. "You think she's upset because I figured it out---before she did? Come on, Tom! B'Elanna isn't like that!"

"Yeah?" He gave her a cynical smirk, the provoking one that made people want to smack it off his face. Torres would have called it Smile Number One.

She got to her feet impatiently. "If you don't want to talk about it---fine! Just don't make things up! I'm not in the mood! I don't need this!" Malista Shadow spun on her heel and started out of Sandrine's.

"Malista! Wait!" Tom leaned back against the pool table.

She paused at the door without turning. 

"Come back here," Tom said. "Please?"

She revolved slowly to face him. "What's going on, Tom?" she asked calmly.

"You want to sit down? And have a drink?" 

"Not particularly. Why was B'Elanna so mad when Harry and I got here last night?" Malista insisted, coming to stand in front of him so she could study his face.

Tom sighed heavily. "Ah, I just made a stupid joke---it wasn't a big deal. She didn't think it was funny, I guess."

"What kind of joke?" Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

Paris pondered the odds of evading the question. He darted a glance at his 'little sister'. No way. It was one of the reasons he liked her. She didn't let him get away with anything. He took a quick look around the room. "Computer, delete all the holodeck characters." 

The other occupants of the bar disappeared giving them privacy. Malista raised her eyebrows, crossed her arms, and waited.

Paris sighed again. He laid his pool cue down and hoisted himself up to sit on the edge of the pool table. He patted the space next to him. Malista followed his lead. "B'Elanna asked me about Rickie."

"Your holographic---friend?"

"Yeah," he said, staring at the floor. "She asked me why I deleted her."

"And you said---" Shadow prompted. 

"I said," Tom replied with a reminiscent wince, "that I got tired of her."

Malista frowned and moaned. "Tom! Do you know how that sounded---"

"Not at the time," he said defensively. "I wasn't thinking of how she would interpret it. I just wanted a quick excuse. Besides, I'm not going to get tired of B'Elanna! I'm not fickle! I don't care what people say about me!" His blue eyes searched her face for a sign that she believed him. "Whether I knew it or not, I've been looking for B'Elanna Torres my whole life! Do you really think I want to mess it up? Now? When things are finally starting to go my way?"

She smiled at him tenderly. "No, of course not," she replied gently. She took his hand and held it. "Was that the only thing? I wouldn't think B'Elanna would get that mad about---just that."

"No," Tom replied reluctantly. "She says I won't talk to her."

"You talk to her all the time."

"That's exactly what I said!" He threw her an exasperated look. "Don't play dumb, Malista. You know what I mean. She says I won't talk to her about---stuff like feelings." It didn't seem to occur to him that he'd just admitted that he had been playing dumb with Torres.

"And do you?"

"Yes---no! I don't know!" He threw up his hands and jumped off the table to amble towards the bar, as if he were too restless to stay still.

"That's a pretty comprehensive answer." She slid down and followed him.

He rummaged behind the bar until he found the bottle he was looking for. "You want some brandy?"

"Synthehol?" She asked cautiously. Her first and only hangover had taught her the hazards of ingesting real alcoholic beverages. She wouldn't repeat that mistake.

He snickered as he recalled the effect of the native beverage from their shore leave on Dynos Six, 'the Blue' as the Voyager crew had dubbed it. Malista, Jenny Delaney, and B'Elanna among others had drunk deeply and suffered greatly as a result. "Of course, it's synthehol. I don't do the real stuff any more either."

"Why not?"

"What do you mean, 'why not'?" He frowned at her. "You're starting to sound like B'Ella. There doesn't have to be a reason for everything!"

"Oops. Sorry. I was just making conversation," she said lightly. "Did I step on a sore spot?" 

"She keeps---pushing," he said, filling his glass. "I don't know---what she wants me to say."

"Welcome to the club," Malista said tiredly. She rested her elbow on the bar and cradled her chin in her palm.

Paris looked into her eyes and noticed the sadness. "What's the matter? Is it Harry?"

She shook her head. "Not exactly. Sometimes. Yes---no, maybe it's me." She broke off in confusion.

Paris smiled wryly, but there was no sparkle in his eyes. "I see I'm not the only one who's mastered the art of the comprehensive answer. Maybe it's a family trait. Would you like to settle on one choice? Is it Harry?"

"Relationships are hard. Especially when you've never had one before. And he keeps pushing---in a nice way. It's that I don't know how much I should tell him. Or what," Malista stated. "I don't want to talk about me right now. And Tom?" She made sure she had his full attention before she continued. "Don't use me---or Harry---or our relationship---as an excuse to avoid B'Elanna. Spend some time alone with her. Talk to her. The two of you care about each other. You can find a way to get past your differences."

Shifting uncomfortably, Tom resorted to a stab at humor. "Hey, I'm supposed to be giving you advice, Sis! Not the other way around. Why don't you take your own advice?"

She refused to smile. "Tom?" Her green eyes were very wide, her expression easy to read.

He studied his brandy solemnly. "Yes?"

"If I can help?" She left it there, not knowing what to say---or if she'd said too much already.

He took her hand and squeezed it. His eyes never left his glass. "I know. You too. If I can help---Let me know."

They stayed there for a few minutes, just holding hands, each lost in thought.

"Tom?"

"Yes?"

"You want to help me with a holoprogram I've been working on?"

"Sure, what is it?"

Malista smiled at him shyly. "Harry keeps asking about my family. I thought I could show him---and get a new exercise program for my workouts."

Tom took the datapadd and studied the program. "Hmm," he murmured. "This looks interesting. A surprise for Harry?" He flashed a wicked grin her way.

She nodded. 

"Then lets make this as near perfect as possible. Just a few finishing touches," Paris suggested. He began to tap on the padd controls. "The small details make it real."

**************

After an exhaustive search and examination, Torres had located an intact, unflawed power coupling in a secondary backup system She immediately assigned a crew to work full-time on replicating new parts for the repair teams to install. With additional personnel, some of them inexperienced, she had to reassign teams so that each had one repair tech and one less experienced assistant from another department. 

She called Malista Shadow aside for a quick conference. "Malista, Sue Nicoletti is going to partner with Gerron. I'm thinking of letting you work with Chell. Is that okay with you?" Torres was studying her intently, watching for a reaction.

Shadow smiled faintly, appreciating her chief's concern and thoughtfulness in consulting her before making the assignment. "It's okay, Lieutenant. I'm not---I like Chell. He doesn't make me---nervous." She'd gotten to know him better in her self-defense class. He was a very non-threatening person.

B'Elanna smiled her relief. Chakotay had asked her to team Malista with women until she overcame her fear of men. But with Engineering so short-handed ---she was glad Malista was making progress in becoming socialized. "Chell follows directions fairly well---if he doesn't talk your ears off," Torres commented, rolling her eyes. 

Malista almost giggled. "I don't mind. If he does all the talking, people don't notice how quiet I am." She sobered for a moment. "Lieutenant, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"Were you upset---that I was the one---No, never mind," Shadow said rapidly. "It's a silly question."

Torres frowned at her. "That you were the one? To what? Oh, you mean that you figured out what the problem was?" She snorted. "No! I was just glad someone did, before I lost it and broke somebody's nose! For some reason, the captain frowns on nose-breaking as motivational behavior." She grinned for a moment, then sobered. "I simply can't believe no one thought of looking at the replicator matrix sooner. It was just such a silly mistake! Of course, the state that Engineering has been in since we got the ship back from the Kazon---Why? Did you think I was upset?" 

Shadow shook her head. "It doesn't matter. I'm glad you aren't."

Torres' eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Someone told you that I was, right? Can I guess who?"

Malista fidgeted. "I asked him why you were upset at Sandrine's the other night."

Torres inhaled with a hiss of annoyance. "That Paris! Don't believe a word he says, Malista! No one should. He was throwing you off his trail. He just didn't want to admit that he made a mistake. It's not your problem."

"If there's anything I can do---" the taller woman offered tentatively, not sure she wanted to find herself between B'Elanna Torres and Tom Paris in a personal dispute. In addition to being her immediate superior, Torres was her friend. Actually, her first female friend. And Tom was her self-appointed older brother. She cared about both of them.

"No. I'll handle this. Don't worry about it. You just keep Chell's hands as busy as his mouth," Torres directed. She watched as the repair teams dispersed throughout the ship. Her scowl was motivation enough to get them moving quickly, if for no other reason than to get away from the chief engineer's watchful eyes.

****************

The Bolian was good company--- for those who didn't mind listening to long and rambling stories about people they didn't know, in places they'd never been, doing things they'd never heard of before. Since he was panting with exertion, his monologue began to wind down as they finally reached their goal in Jefferies tube seven, deck five, section 23F. It was a power junction for several main systems and, therefore, a high priority for replacement parts.

Chell noticed that Malista was half-humming, half-singing to herself as she climbed. "You have a nice voice, Malista. Do you sing?"

Malista ignored the question. She'd found that worked better with Chell than trying to change the subject. She opened the panel and assessed the situation with a tricorder. "Chell, get the replacements ready. I can see two couplings that show signs of cracking. There's a lot of power running through this junction and the one above us. We need to take the power offline." She slapped her commbadge. "Crewman Shadow to Operations."

"Kim here. Go ahead."

Shadow tried to suppress the smile that always appeared when she heard that particular voice. She didn't want Chell to think she was just plain sappy about Ensign Kim. Though she was. "Ensign, we need to take power offline at junction seven five in order to replace the power couplings. Shouldn't take more than fifteen minutes."

"Negative," Kim replied sharply. "That would cause a temporary power loss to the shields. We've just entered an asteroid field. We need the shields to deflect debris. We should be clear of the asteroid field in---" There was a momentary pause as he checked with the helm officer. "We'll be clear in ten minutes. Stand by."

"Standing by," Shadow replied. She gazed at the Bolian and sighed. "Hurry up and wait!"

"Standard problem," Chell said sympathetically. "Did I ever tell you about the Maquis raid planned for the Darien Colony? We were supposed to---"

"Wait!" Malista said, frowning as she studied the panel. "This coupling isn't going to last ten minutes. Chell, give me a replacement!"

"What?" he muttered, even as he handed the part to her. "You can't replace a coupling with the power on. You'll fry yourself."

The tip of Malista's tongue made an appearance as she concentrated on moving her fingers in and around the active circuits to the vulnerable coupling. "You can if you're v---e---r---y careful---or very good! And I'm both."

Chell held his breath, speechless for once as he watched her delicately reach past the circuitry that was audibly humming with the power surging through it.

"Ta-da! Got it!" She flashed a grin at him. Her grin faded quickly. "Do you smell something? What's that buzzing noise?" It was coming from above their position, from the next section of the Jefferies tube. "Chell, move! Get out of here!" 

"What noise--- " Chell began, as he obediently started climbing down the access crawlway ladder.

"Hurry!" she shouted. Malista lunged upward striving to reach the controls that would seal the hatch to the next compartment of the Jefferies tube. "There's another---" Her fingers brushed the hatch controls, but it was a split second too late.

The shock wave from the explosion threw Chell backwards and down the access tube, leaving him semiconscious in the corridor below. Malista was thrown down the same path, but somehow her left arm and leg caught on the ladder, leaving her dangling upside down six feet above the deck, her uniform smoldering the length of her side. Sparks and debris continued to rain down on them both. 

Internal sensors broadcast the alarm to the Operations Console immediately. "Captain," Kim snapped, "We have an emergency between decks seven and eight. Explosion in the Jefferies tube. Shields are holding."

Even as the ensign reported, another commbadge was heard. "Crewman Gerron to the bridge. Two injured. Crewmen Shadow and Chell have been beamed directly to Sickbay. We have a damage control party in place. We'll report our findings as soon as possible."

"How severe are their injuries?" Kim rapped out. That shouldn't have been his next question, but the captain chose to overlook his slight lapse in Starfleet professionalism under the circumstances.

"It looked like Malista took the brunt of the explosion. Chell didn't seem to be badly hurt," Gerron reported. "We've got the system locked down and are now assessing the damage. I'll get back to you. Gerron out." The young Bajoran sounded agitated. He was almost shouting to be heard over the background noise of the repair teams and the hissing of fire suppression systems.

Janeway met Kim's distraught brown eyes, but spoke to her helmsman. "Mr. Paris, let me know the minute we're clear of the asteroid field."

"Yes, ma'am." Paris' reply lacked its usual insouciant note. "Clear in two minutes." His rigid posture telegraphed his tension.

They were the slowest two minutes Harry Kim had ever experienced. He didn't think he even remembered to breathe as he forced himself to focus on the console and controls before him, carrying out his assigned duties. He caught himself fidgeting and consciously forced himself to stand still. "Damage report is in, Captain. Gerron says Mal---the repair team activated the hatch sealing mechanism before the explosion. The hatchway was partially closed so the damage was limited to deck five, tube seven, section 23G. Light damage to 23H. Some debris in 23A-F."

Chakotay checked his own readouts. "I'm glad they reacted quickly, if we'd lost power in 23F---"

"We'd have lost the shields and Voyager would have been smashed to a paste by these glorified rocks," Paris supplied grimly. His fingers danced over the controls as he maneuvered the ship. "Clear of the asteroid field, Captain. Resuming normal flight pattern," he reported. He spun in his chair, his blue eyes making the plea he couldn't bring himself to verbalize. 

Janeway nodded. "Mr. Paris, why don't you go to Sickbay and check on the injured? You can be my representative." Without turning, she added, "And Mr. Kim can represent Commander Chakotay."

"Thank you, Captain," the two young men said in unison. They beat a hasty retreat to the turbolift as relief personnel slid into their positions.

Janeway seated herself and found Chakotay smiling at her. "Was there something you wanted to say, Commander?" she asked casually, picking up her data padd. 

Chakotay's brown eyes twinkled, though his expression remained deadpan. "No, Captain. It's a good thing to delegate non-critical duties to junior officers. I'm sure you learned that at Starfleet Academy." Then he added, sotto voce, "You old softy."

Kathryn shot a quick glance around the bridge. No one was watching. She darted her tongue out at her first officer, and resumed her usual professional demeanor in less than a heartbeat.

Caught off guard, Chakotay burst out laughing. The other bridge officers glanced at him curiously. He just shrugged and settled back into his chair, shaking his head as he checked his console readings. The captain, demurely studying the padd, ignored his strange behavior as if she hadn't noticed. The bridge crew returned their attention to their duties with slightly puzzled frowns.

***************

Chell was awake and sitting up on the biobed. He was suffering from bruises and cuts. His eyes were fixed on the surgical bay which was temporarily out of sight behind a privacy screen. The doctor and Kes were busily working on Malista there.

Kes stepped out and pushed the screen out of the way. Malista was dressed in a Sickbay gown, lying unconscious on the biobed. Her singed and burned uniform lay in a heap on the floor. The right side of her body and face showed burn damage. Her left arm was lying at an awkward angle. The doctor meticulously straightened her left leg and ran an osteoregenerator over it.

Harry Kim stopped a few feet from the bed, staring at Malista Shadow's injuries with distress. 

Paris asked politely, "Doctor? Could we have a report?" 

The Doctor frowned in concentration as he worked on his patient. "The burns are superficial. The dermal regenerator will be able to repair the damage within a few hours. The more serious injuries are the concussion---she suffered a blow to the head---the dislocated shoulder and the broken tibia. She should recover consciousness any time. She will require several hours, possibly days of recovery time. *If* she follows the proper treatment regimen! I have come to expect a lack of cooperation from this crew," the Doctor complained. 

He finished with Shadow's leg and turned his attention to the burns that ran down the left side of her face and down her side, almost to her waist. He handed the osteoregenerator to Kes, who began working on Malista's arm and shoulder.

Tom Paris sighed with relief and turned to the Bolian. "Chell? What happened?"

The Bolian shook his head. "Malista spotted a few bad power couplings. We were waiting for the ship to clear the asteroid field so we could shut down the power in that section. Then she heard a noise from the next section of the Jefferies tube---I didn't hear anything!---and she told me to get out! I started down the ladder, but she didn't follow me! She went up! I don't know why!" He studied his erstwhile teammate with concern, wondering if he could have done anything to help her.

"She tried to close the hatch to contain the explosion," Harry Kim explained glumly. He was watching every move made by Kes and the Doctor as if his attention was necessary to Malista's recovery. "She didn't quite make it. The hatch didn't seal completely. She should have just gotten out of there!"

"It would have been worse if she hadn't tried," Paris insisted. "They would have taken the full force of the explosion!"

"She almost got herself killed!" Kim muttered through gritted teeth. "And it's my fault!"

"How could it be your fault?" Paris demanded. 

"I had them standby. They were waiting because I wouldn't let them shut off the power in that section. I should have rerouted the power. I could have done that. It wouldn't have taken very long. Then they wouldn't have been---"

Paris grabbed his friend's shoulder and gave it a shake. "Harry, you don't know that! It was an accident! You heard Chell. The explosion occurred above them---not in their section!" 

Harry shook his head. Kes finished her task and stepped away from the biobed, studying Ensign Kim with concern in her eyes. Harry darted toward the biobed as Malista moaned. Paris followed him, prepared to pull him out of the doctor's way if necessary.

Her eyes opened slowly. The first image she saw was the doctor's frowning visage about four inches from her face. "Oh, no!" she groaned. "Not you again!" She tensed and tried to move away from his hand.

The doctor shot an indignant glance in Tom's direction. "Mr. Paris, have you been coaching her? That's exactly what you said when you regained consciousness after your 'para-skiing' mishap on the holodeck!" He put a hand to her right shoulder to press her back against the bed, then gently tilted her head into position so he could continue the dermal regeneration on her face. "Lie still, Ms. Shadow." 

She looked past him, saw Tom and Harry, and her body relaxed visibly, reassured by their presence. "Chell? Is he okay?" she asked anxiously. 

The Bolian moved into her line of sight. "Hello!" He raised his hand, wiggling his fingers. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she muttered. She was uncomfortable with the Doctor's nearness. She knew he was just a hologram, but still---

Harry stepped forward, dodged around the doctor and the approaching Kes and took her right hand in his. "Malista, I'm sorry. I should have rerouted the power so you could shut it down."

She frowned her puzzlement. "What? What does that have to do---"

"Nothing. This is not the time, Harry," Paris said, tugging Harry's arm to pull him out of the way as the doctor moved around the bed to get a better angle. "We came to check on you. Now that we know you're going to be okay, we'd better get back to the bridge." 

Harry was staring at Malista's injuries, feeling guilt-ridden and anxious. 

"The bridge, Harry!" Tom repeated. "We have to get back to the bridge."

"Mr. Kim," the doctor said over his shoulder, "This will take some time and it will take more time than necessary if you continue to provide a distraction."

Harry gazed at Tom blankly. He turned back to her. "Malista---"

She hissed an indrawn breath with pain as the doctor repositioned her burned face so he could reach the skin under her jaw line for treatment. She tried to smile at Harry, but tears were filling her eyes. "Not now, Harry. Please. I'll talk to you later."

"Come on, Harry. Let the doctor do his job," Paris said, tugging Kim's arm once more. This time the ensign allowed himself to be dragged toward the exit. 

"I'll be back as soon as I get off shift," Harry called. "Call me if you need anything!" 

The door slid shut behind the duo. The doctor shook his head. He eyed Malista dubiously as she twitched nervously away from his hand again. "Crewman Shadow, please stay still! Regenerating burn tissue is a delicate business and while I am an excellent doctor, even I cannot be expected to heal you without pain---if you insist on squirming! I remind you that I am a hologram. I have no prurient interest in touching you."

"Doctor!" Kes chided. She needed to review the meaning of the word 'tact' with him once more. Surely one of the forty-seven doctors who'd contributed to his programming was familiar with the concept, although it wasn't evident in his bedside manner.

Malista met the doctor's eyes. Actually, his brusqueness reassured her. He might not be human, but he had kind eyes. "Sorry. I'll try to stay still." 

"I know," Chell exclaimed. "I'll talk to her so she'll have something to distract her." He beamed a smile at the trio in the surgical bay as he volunteered.

With a very human expression, the doctor rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Of course, Mr. Chell," he replied sarcastically. "That's exactly what every Sickbay requires---a monologist!"

Malista and Kes met each other's eyes and tried to stifle the urge to giggle.

***************

Tom Paris went to Engineering to find B'Elanna Torres. She hadn't shown up for dinner in the messhall at their usual time. She was working busily and didn't see him arrive. He walked up behind her and tapped her shoulder. She spun and assumed a defensive posture as if he'd pulled a knife. He threw his hands up in surrender. "Easy, B'Elanna. It's just me. You're late for dinner. Six hours late." He tried a smile. 

Torres labeled it Smile Number Four---polite, friendly, slightly concerned---it reached his eyes, but didn't convey his feelings very well. She sniffed and moved past him to another console. "I don't have time for dinner, Paris. With Malista and Chell injured, that's one less team working on those vole-loving, Ferengi-kissing---power couplings!" she growled emphatically. She stayed on the move, making adjustments and taking readings on a tricorder. 

Tom took a deep breath and stayed polite and friendly as he trailed after her. 'Paris'---so they were back to that, were they? 

"I could bring you something to eat," he volunteered. "Did you eat lunch, by the way?" He hadn't seen her all day. He'd been surprised how much he'd missed just seeing her around even if they had no time to talk.

"I don't remember," she said, darting around him once more to another section of Engineering. She still wouldn't look at him.

Tom could feel his jaw clenching, but made an effort to relax. "B'Elanna?"

She strode past him again, ignoring him.

Paris gazed around at the Engineering section. No one else was in sight. "You know for being the center of all this frenzied activity, there aren't many people around here," he commented sardonically. He leaned against the wall and watched her scurrying from control panel to console and back again. 

That got her attention. "They're in the Jefferies tubes," she snapped.

"Uh-huh." Pure skepticism distilled in bright blue eyes. 

"They are!"

"B'Elanna, Gamma shift just started. It's 2400." There was the challenge.

"So?" she snarled, slamming the tricorder down on the console and giving him a defiant glare.

"So Chakotay reworked the duty roster to put the teams on Alpha and Beta shifts. There's only a skeleton crew working right now," Tom said calmly. "So--- would you like to tell me why you didn't show up for dinner? We had plans."

"Yeah, well," she muttered. "Maybe---I got tired---of our plans." She flopped into a chair and studied the tricorder readings.

Tom immediately recognized the reference. "B'Ella, I didn't mean it. I'm sorry. I didn't know you'd take it so seriously. I was just joking about Rickie." He straightened and came toward her. "I apologize. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings." There was no trace of the smart mouthed joker who'd enraged her.

Her brown eyes met his solemnly. "So---why *did* you delete Rickie?"

'There's no way she'll let this go,' he thought. He braced himself and decided honesty was the only option left to him. "Because---I was interested in you---and I knew you didn't like her. I thought you---I hoped you'd take it as a sign that I was serious about you. Then you didn't even notice," he said, a hint of a crooked smile sneaking onto his lips. Smile Number Six---a true smile, given reluctantly, his eyes revealing that he felt uncomfortable.

Those big blue eyes were so expressive. There was not a glimmer of amusement there. This Tom Paris was being absolutely sincere. She wondered if he knew just how many of his secrets his eyes gave away. "I'm sorry I didn't notice, Tom." She cleared her throat. "But tell me something?" 

He nodded cautiously. 

"Why did you program that character in the first place? Is she a real person like Sandrine?"

This question was harder to answer than the first one. He should have expected it, but he'd hoped she'd let it lie. He crossed his arms and casually strolled back towards the wall. He needed something to lean on. It helped when striking a careless pose---a carefully practiced careless pose meant to convey a sense of ease. Torres got up and followed him curiously. 

"Well," he began, but stopped as he heard the beguiling tone appearing in his voice. This was no time for his typical smooth line of patter---she wouldn't fall for it anyway. It was just such a habit---when people got too close. "To tell you the truth, Rickie was kind of a compilation of several people---my first girlfriend, a cousin of mine, and a couple of other women I knew or dated at the Academy. I guess you could say I took the best qualities of all those people and programmed them into Rickie. And I took her and Sandrine everywhere I went. Put them in all my holoprograms. Adding other characters when I felt the need."

Torres was standing three feet in front of him, examining him carefully---as if he were an Engineering problem she was trying to solve. "But why? Why go to all that trouble? For a holographic program?"

He exhaled on a shaky sigh and tried to get his nonchalant grin in place. "I needed someone to talk to." He couldn't sustain the grin. It faltered and fell away. He examined the tips of his boots with great care. He didn't want to see her reaction. He was afraid she'd be smiling derisively. "You might not have noticed, but not everyone finds me as charming as you do."

"Tom?" Her voice was uncharacteristically gentle. She stepped forward, her fingertips brushing his chest as she placed a hand on his forearm. 

He felt tears pricking his eyes and tried to make a joke---"Well, you know how popular I was when I first came aboard Voyager! The Maquis wanted to kill me---and the Starfleet crew wanted to throw me in the brig! And I've been in places where I was even *less* popular---if you can believe that. Programming the characters in Sandrine's ensured that I'd have someone to talk to---and since I programmed them, they didn't have any choice but to talk to me!" He attempted a laugh, but couldn't bring it off.

"Tom," Torres repeated, more urgently. She moved closer and grasped his upper arms. "I'm sorry I didn't talk to you. I'm sorry no one gave you a chance. We shouldn't have---judged---"

He shrugged her arms away, and moved slowly toward the door. "Kind of pathetic, isn't it?" he said, sniffing and clearing his throat. "You can't get a date so you program one---so you can get an ego boost from the admiration of a fictional character. And maybe you can pretend you have friends and no one else will notice---that you don't. A few hundred years ago, that kind of behavior would have gotten me locked up in a mental ward. Good thing we live in more enlightened times, huh, B'Ella---B'Elanna?" He tried another laugh. It was no more successful than the first attempt. 

She caught his arm and pulled him to a halt. He didn't turn to face her. He couldn't. She wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing herself against his back as she hugged him from behind. "I'm sorry, Tom. I didn't mean to hurt you by bringing up bad memories."

He froze for a moment, as if she'd said something unexpected. "I know. I didn't mean to hurt you by joking around either. It's just---I'm not used to---" One hand came up and he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger, surreptitiously wiping away traces of moisture in the corners of his eyes. 

He ran his fingers through his hair. "I can't believe I'm having trouble putting this into words. I'm not used to talking seriously ---with anyone. Most people think of me as a court jester, the life of the party---the flirt. No one---except Harry and Captain Janeway and Malista---has ever been interested in a serious Tom Paris. It almost sounds like an oxymoron, doesn't it?---serious Tom Paris. Sometimes I can't tell which is the real me, either---the clown or the---" He stopped, not sure what he wanted to say, or if he should say anything further. 

Torres used her strength to gently turn him in her arms so she could rest her head on his chest. She snuggled up against his body, tightening the hug till he responded by putting his own arms around her and squeezing back. They just stood there holding each other---for a long time.

***************

Malista Shadow spent two days and nights in Sickbay. Harry Kim was there with her for a great deal of the time---and underfoot---until the doctor finally lost patience and limited his visits. When Malista was released, she was placed on sick leave for three days---under protest. The doctor had expected that. He sat her down before releasing her and lectured her sternly about limiting her physical activity. 

"You have been seriously injured twice in less than three months," he reminded her. "Your body has been healed of the injuries, but bruises and the soreness that accompany muscular stress cannot be cured instantaneously. You need to rest and give your body a chance to recover naturally."

"But there's so much work to do in Engineering---" she began.

He stopped her by holding up his hand. "All the more reason for you to return to duty in good health. You must take care of yourself so you will be able to take care of the ship. Rest! Recuperate! Start with a mild exercise program and work your way up to a more strenuous workout. Surely, you can think of something to do with your free time! If not, I can suggest---"

"No, thank you," she interrupted, getting to her feet. "Thank you for all your help, Doctor. I appreciate the fine job you did repairing me---again."

"That's what I'm programmed for," the doctor replied matter-of-factly.

She smiled at him. He'd become a person to her during her third unfortunate incarceration in his milieu. "And you do such a good job of it, too," she said. She kissed his cheek, smiled at him again, and left for her quarters.

He watched her go, his hand creeping up to touch his cheek. She and Kes were the only humanoids who'd ever kissed him. It was an interesting experience. He smiled to himself. At least she seemed to have gotten over her fear of doctors---at least this doctor. Maybe there was a paper in this. "How to Deal with Irrational Fear of Doctors" ? Now why did the phrase "beads and rattles" come to mind? A random memory in the engrams of his program?

*****************

Paris returned to the bridge from his lunch break with a beaming smile. "Captain, you don't want to miss lunch today," he announced. "It's wonderful!"

Janeway's gray eyes lit with amusement. "Now that's a comment I haven't heard very often." 

Paris slid into his chair at the helm. "That's because Malista found something useful to do with her time off. My little sister taught Neelix how to make---what did she call it, Harry?" 

Kim had quietly trailed in behind Paris and assumed his station. "Souvlaki."

"Really? I'm glad Malista isn't bored with her time off," Janeway stated. There was something sweet about the way Tom claimed Malista as family. Those two had been good for each other. "So this souvlaki is good?"

"Yeah," Paris said with a grin. "It's really great. The spices are just right. And little pastries for dessert---and she actually got Neelix to serve the pepper sauces and leola root on the side." He chuckled. "She told him it was a Greek tradition. Maybe she can convince him to make a habit of it."

"She should be resting," Kim muttered. "Working in the messhall isn't---" He broke off as he became aware of the stares of Tom Paris and Captain Janeway.

"I'm sure she won't overdo it, Mr. Kim," Janeway said reassuringly. "Kes will keep an eye on her." She smiled. 

Kim nodded and returned his attention to the Ops station. 

Janeway raised her eyebrows at Paris. He shrugged carelessly. Harry was overreacting to Malista's accident. The captain decided that the situation would bear watching. She decided she'd check on Shadow herself---at lunch. "Mr. Paris, you have the bridge," she stated as she moved to the turbolift.

****************

Malista was sharing a table with B'Elanna Torres. The chief engineer was enjoying her meal. That was evident from the haste with which she was clearing her plate. Malista was fiddling with a datapadd. Neither woman was smiling but they didn't look angry with each other. Janeway brought her tray to their table. "May I join you?"

"Of course," Malista said, clearing a space on the table. "How are you today, Captain?" she asked politely. She was on her best behavior. She'd hardly ever spoken to the captain.

Janeway cast a whimsical eye over the pair. "Better than you two, I think. What seems to be the problem?"

Malista gazed dolefully at Torres. Torres frowned at Malista then both looked at Janeway. "Men!" They said in unison.

The captain raised an eyebrow as she speared her first bite of souvlaki. "Oh," she drawled, "Them again. Are we speaking generally, ladies? Or do you have specific members of the male gender in mind?"

Malista sighed. Torres growled wordlessly under her breath. 

Both the captain's eyebrows rose. "That bad?" She was concerned to note that Torres looked exhausted---but so tense she was almost vibrating. She tasted the souvlaki. She smiled. "Malista, this is wonderful. Would you like to transfer to cook's assistant?"

Shadow shook her head. "Captain, do you understand men?" 

Janeway chuckled under her breath. "To be honest, I don't think even men understand men! Would you like to talk about it? I may not have any good advice, but I could offer another opinion."

Malista hesitated. She didn't know the captain well at all. She wasn't sure how much to say.

"Harry's driving her crazy," Torres stated bluntly. She got up and went to get a refill on her beverage.

Janeway smiled encouragingly at Shadow.

She nodded reluctantly. "Since the accident, Harry's been---hovering. Somehow he blames himself for it. It's irrational."

"Sometimes that's how guilt manifests itself," the captain said. "As anxiety. Have you told him his behavior is bothering you?"

"No," she mumbled reluctantly.

"He's not going to stop until you tell him to," Torres stated emphatically as she reseated herself. "If he's making you crazy, just tell him to knock it off."

"I couldn't do that. I might hurt his feelings."

Janeway frowned thoughtfully. "If you don't tell him, he doesn't know there's a problem."

"Oh, that's not all of it," the engineer snorted. "Tell her the rest, Malista."

"The rest?" the captain inquired politely. She didn't want to push Shadow into discussing private manners, but she was willing to lend an ear.

The younger woman cleared her throat. "It's not anything really. It's just---" she sighed. "Harry found out that I have some musical ability---and he's trying to get me to perform at the next concert."

"And you don't want to?" Janeway inquired.

Shadow shook her head, her eyes downcast.

"Don't be such a mouse!" Torres exclaimed impatiently. "If you don't want to do it, tell Harry to take a flying leap at a plasma conduit! Can't anyone on this ship just *tell* people what they're thinking? We aren't mind readers. You can't get mad at Harry if you don't talk to him."

The captain frowned at B'Elanna's lack of tact and wondered what was at the root of her outburst. It didn't sound as if Torres was talking exclusively about Harry and Malista. "B'Elanna is right about one thing, Malista. You do need to talk this over with Harry. I'm sure he would never deliberately make you unhappy."

"No, ma'am, of course not," Shadow mumbled. She stumbled to her feet. "Excuse me, I have an appointment." She darted out of the messhall as if fleeing for her life.

Janeway assessed Torres' appearance. "B'Elanna, you look tired. I think you're overdoing it. You should take a couple of hours off and do something relaxing---"

"Captain, there is so much to do---"

Icy gray eyes cut her off. "Are you telling me, Lieutenant, that your department is run so inefficiently that they can't function without your supervision for two hours?"

"No, Captain," Torres gulped, suppressing an urge to howl with frustration.

"Then I suggest you find something relaxing to do---or just get some sleep," Janeway turned her attention back to her souvlaki, dismissing the younger woman with a nod of her head. 

*****************

Chief Engineer B'Elanna Torres was---upset. Which as the EMH had once said was a relative term when referring to the half Klingon officer. Her mood was somewhere between irritated and aggravated. She knew she was tired. She knew she'd been touchy---and hard to get along with---for days. She didn't want to analyze why. But having been ordered to take two hours off, she found herself at a loss to know what to do with the time.

She had too much nervous energy coursing through her body to relax enough to sleep. Perhaps a workout on the holodeck? She arrived at holodeck one and checked its status. A program was running, but there was no privacy lock in place. She decided to find out who was running the program called Lake Como.

Malista Shadow was seated in the shade of the tall tree near the picnic table. She ignored Torres' arrival. Her pensive eyes were fixed on the small boats far out on the surface of the lake. 

Torres sat down on the bench. "I've been ordered to relax. For two hours."

Malista cocked an eyebrow at her. It seemed she had returned to her silent persona---the one that didn't speak---or spoke in two word sentences.

"If you don't want to talk---" Torres began, thinking she would offer to leave, but not knowing where she would go if she did.

Malista shrugged. "Do you?"

Torres sighed. She ran her fingers through her hair and made an effort to force her body to relax. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been so---snappish with you in the mess hall. Your relationship with Harry is none of my business."

Shadow nodded. It implied acceptance of the apology. 

"Why don't you just tell Harry he's making you crazy?" Torres burst out. "Sorry. Tell me to butt out."

"I can't."

"What?"

Malista sighed forlornly. "I seem to have trouble telling anyone anything. How do you do it?"

"How do I do what?" She settled into place, turning all of her attention to the woman in front of her.

"Tell people what you think. Argue with them. Tell them off! How do you argue with them without losing your temper?" Shadow's eyes were filled with sadness and a shade of anger.

"You're kidding, right?" Torres snorted. 

Shadow shook her head.

"I lose my temper all the time," the engineer exploded. "I have to fight for control---what has this got to do with you?"

Shadow tore her eyes away and stared at the horizon once more. "I'm afraid to lose my temper. I don't argue. I try to change the subject or distract him or I just leave. I think it bothers Harry. He's been---different lately. And he won't tell me what's wrong."

"Afraid? What are you afraid of?" Torres asked gently. 

"I'm afraid I'll---" Malista's voice broke as her green eyes filled with tears. She drew her knees up and dropped her head on them. 

Torres dropped to the ground and sat next to her, leaning against the tree beside her friend. "What? It's okay, Malista. You can tell me."

Shadow looked up, her eyes glistening. "I'm afraid I'll hurt someone."

Torres stared at her. "You mean like when I broke Carey's nose? You think you'll lose your temper and belt Harry?" It had never occurred to her that Harry Kim could provoke that kind of anger---Tom, yes. But Harry? He was so---normal. But then B'Elanna wasn't interested in Harry romantically. That could make a difference.

A weak smile tugged at her lips. "No. Yes. Sometimes. Oh, geez, I can't even talk. I'm back to giving comprehensive answers."

Torres didn't understand the reference so she ignored it. "Malista, you aren't the type. You might get mad and throw things---lots of women do, human or Klingon. But you would never hurt Harry. Or Tom. Or anyone, if you ask me."

"How do you learn to control your temper? To be sure you won't lose control?" 

Torres shrugged. "Practice. Besides, getting angry is normal. You yell, you argue, you do some name-calling---you walk out---or you settle it. There's nothing intrinsically wrong with losing your temper."

"B'Elanna," she said in carefully measured tones, "the last time I lost my temper---" She stopped to swallow the lump in her throat. "I went berserk---and I killed four Cardassians." She dropped her face down on her knees again. Her breathing was ragged.

The ugly words lay there for a few moments like a lump of mud flung down on the deck between them. 

Torres clenched her jaw. She wasn't a counselor. She felt inadequate to give advice to anyone. How did she get herself into these situations? By being a friend. She cleared her throat and hoped she could find the right words. "Malista, the Maquis were at war with the Cardassians. It was war! And you killed the men who raped you and killed your friends. Don't expect me to be grief-stricken for them. You did what you had to do." She tentatively stretched out an arm and squeezed Shadow's shoulder with her hand, imitating a gesture Janeway had made familiar. 

"Did you ever kill anyone, B'Elanna?" The muttered question was almost   
unheard.

Torres tensed. "Yes."

"In hand to hand combat?"

"Yes." 

Shadow peered up at Torres' tight expression. "Can I assume that whoever it was---he was fighting back?"

Torres nodded slowly. She hated to think about this. She hated to talk about this. She hated the way it made her feel. With absolute clarity, she could remember every aspect---as if it were playing out on a screen before her. The color of the blood, the look on his face---the smells, the sounds, the feel of the blood splashing on her skin, the bitter taste of bile in her throat. Each one of her five senses had registered the event in excruciating detail. She'd probably have nightmares tonight. As she did every time the incident was brought to mind. 

Malista's tears finally spilled over. "The Cardassians I killed---were all unconscious. Niko killed one and we had knocked out the other four---with phasers on stun---and one of them with a rifle butt. I didn't have to kill them. They were lying there helpless---and I murdered them. And the scariest thing---" She broke off and wiped her eyes with her hands. "I enjoyed it. I reveled in it. I was totally out of control---and I stabbed them over and over and I was so glad they were dead and that I was the one who killed them and I just kept stabbing them over and over---"

B'Elanna shook her shoulder to break the litany. "Malista, you had just seen them kill three of your friends---beat them to death slowly. They raped you and tortured you. Of course, you were glad to see them dead! You'd be crazy if you weren't. You were in shock. That's why you lost control. I would probably have done exactly the same thing. Anyone might have."

Shadow stared at Torres, trying to see if she was sincere. "I've never told anyone about this. Niko was there. He knew. But I never told anyone."

"Maybe you should talk to Chakotay about this," Torres suggested. "Or Harry."

Shadow's head swung in instant rejection of that idea. "I can't talk to Harry about this."

"Why not? He's a good friend and a good listener. It might help."

Malista shook her head. "He wouldn't understand. He's straight out of the Academy. He's never even seen combat like the Maquis experienced. He's never--- murdered anyone. He doesn't know what it's like---and I don't want him to know. To have to know. He wouldn't want to---I slaughtered four---do you think Harry---I couldn't. I don't want to see--the look that would be in his eyes. He'd--never want to kiss me or--"

Torres fidgeted impatiently. She didn't know what to say. It was true that Harry Kim was inexperienced and had no first hand knowledge of the ugliness of war. She wasn't sure how he would react to such ugliness either, but she knew silence wasn't the answer. The truth couldn't be evaded forever. "You can't know that unless you tell him."

"I can't! I won't risk losing him!"

"Is that why you won't argue with him? Won't tell him how you feel? Because you're afraid?" B'Elanna sneered. "Could you tell Tom?" She jumped to her feet and swung to confront the taller woman. Anger was something Torres did know something about. Maybe a demonstration---

"What?" Malista scrambled to her feet defensively, studying Torres puzzledly.

"I said you could tell Tom! You and Tom spend a whole lot of time talking, don't you?" the chief engineer accused, arms akimbo.

"Yes. Sometimes we talk. Why?"

"About your pasts?" It sounded like an indictment.

Malista frowned down at the shorter woman. "Yes. Why? Does it bother you? You know there's nothing going on between me and Tom. He's like a brother to me. Are you jealous?" she asked incredulously. She was beginning to be irritated by the Klingon's belligerent manner. 

"Jealous?" Torres said, raising her voice. "Why should I be jealous? Of you?" She gibed, running her eyes up and down Malista's long, curvaceous body disdainfully.

"You sound jealous to me," Shadow said softly, a spark of anger lighting her eyes.

"He talks to you---he talks to Harry. Why won't he talk to me?" Torres demanded. 

Malista turned and started to walk away toward the lake shore. 

Torres snatched at her arm and spun her around. "Answer me! I finally got him to stop making a joke every five minutes, but he still won't talk to me! I'm beginning to think he was never serious about me in the first place. He clams up if I ask about his past---or about his feelings. Why does he talk to you and Harry and not to me?"

Shadow's green eyes were hard. "Maybe because neither Harry or I have ever---" She broke off as she tried to get control of her anger. She didn't want to say anything to hurt B'Elanna. 

Torres pulled on her arm. "Finish it! What were you going to say?"

"Let go of my arm." It was quiet, but definitely not a suggestion.

The chief engineer tightened her grip. "Not until you tell me what I want to know."

Malista resisted, pulling her arm forcefully out of B'Elanna's grip and turning away again. She started walking toward the exit.

"Oh, that's what you're good at, right? Shoot a little dart out and then run away before you have to face the consequences," Torres taunted. 

Shadow stiffened and stopped in her tracks. She revolved slowly, deliberately. "What do you want from me?" 

"The truth would be nice. Come on, Shadow! How many people do you think you can fool with this act of yours? You act like you're scared to get all the men to feel protective! Then you lure them into your trap. You've got half the men on the ship jumping through hoops. Were Tom and Harry a bigger challenge? Or is it that you want both of them? You want to see if you can come between them? That's it, isn't it?" Torres accused, striding forward to put herself right in Shadow's face once more.

"No." Malista's face had become an expressionless mask, only her green eyes showed that spark of anger was still burning, glowing more brightly.

"You may have the men fooled, but you can't fool me! How many men do you want? Harry? Tom? All of them? Are you going to work your way through the whole ship? Trying to beat the Delaneys' record? I'll give you credit for one thing---you've really got Tom fooled. But then he does all his thinking with his hormones. A pity his pretty head is so empty!" A bark of laughter escaped Torres.

Malista clenched her fists at her side. "He's not a fool. He's a very intelligent man. You're the fool if you can't see beyond his good looks. I would never do anything to hurt Tom. And you'd better not either." The words were forced from between clenched teeth.

"Or what?" B'Elanna said defiantly. "I'll admit Tom's decorative. He's good company, but what woman in her right mind would take him seriously? He's a flirt, a womanizer---he'd probably jump in bed with anyone---even you! Maybe he already has!"

"No! I can't believe you're saying these things! What's the matter with you? Tom cares about you!" Malista's voice was rising, her dispassionate mask melting in the heat of the angry flush of color staining her neck and face. 

"Oh, sure---today! And what about Harry?" Torres continued, provokingly, stepping back. "Does he like it when you follow him around like a puppy dog? Maybe that's the only kind of relationship he can handle. He's not real bright either, is he? I could teach him a thing or two about women---" She ran her hand down her body suggestively. "Maybe I should do him a favor. Of course, he might not hold up---physically. He's not very strong---even for a human. But what's a broken bone or two among friends?" 

"You stay away from Harry!" Malista shouted, moving closer to Torres and leaning down to get right in the shorter woman's face. "I don't know how you could have fooled Tom and Harry into thinking you were their friend---but I'm going to warn them about you! And if you get near either one of them, if you hurt them---you won't a have a hair left on your head, you Klingon witch! And to hell with Starfleet protocols!" 

All the apparent anger suddenly dropped away from Torres' face. She smiled smugly and started to applaud. Malista backed off, totally confused.

"Did you lose your temper somewhere, Malista? I think I found it," Torres commented wryly. "Damn, it takes a lot to get under that thick skin of yours!"

"You---you did that deliberately?" Shadow was trembling from reaction, her body not sure how to shift from fierce anger to relief in such a short period of time.

Torres took her arm gently and guided her back to the picnic table, seating both of them on the bench. "You lost your temper and you didn't hurt me, did you? It was something you needed to know. You really have a long fuse. I was running out of ideas for insults."

Malista ran shaking fingers through her hair. "I can't believe you did that. How could you take a chance---I might have hurt you!"

Torres shook her head. " You might be bigger than me, but I don't fight fair---and my Klingon half gives me an edge. But I wasn't worried about it. I told you---you aren't the type."

"But I wanted to hit you---especially when you said that about Harry!"

"But you didn't," B'Elanna reminded her. "Kahless knows, I gave you enough provocation. Malista, you need to learn to channel your anger. Sometimes just yelling is enough to take the edge off. Sometimes physical activity helps. Like throwing things---hopefully not punches---or exercising. Running or swimming or something tiring."

Shadow smiled weakly. "B'Elanna, you are really something."

"Yeah, I am," the chief engineer replied with a smug smile. "Any other questions before we conclude our lesson on controlling anger?"

"Just one. When you have to fight, how do you keep from getting carried away---from going berserk?" Malista dropped her eyes to the ground.

Torres thought that one over for a moment. "I don't know if I have a good answer for that one---but I think I know someone who would. George Natwick."

"Natwick?" Shadow's tone telegraphed her surprise.

"He teaches self-defense. Part of that is learning to control fear and anger and keep them out of the way when you're in a combat situation," Torres explained. She grinned. "I know. Nitwit Natwick is a jerk---with women. But he's good at his job or Tuvok would have had his head on a plate months ago."

"Maybe I'll find him and ask his advice," Shadow said slowly.

Torres touched her hand. "Just make sure you do it in a public place. I don't trust that guy alone with you---or any woman, for that matter."

"Thanks---Sis," Malista said jokingly. "I will. I guess you didn't mean any of the things you said to make me angry?"

"No. Of course not," Torres replied. "If I really thought you were using or manipulating Tom or Harry, you'd have known about it a long time ago. I don't keep things to myself very well." 

They sat and enjoyed the scenery on the holodeck for a few moments as they cooled off and their blood pressure returned to normal.

"Aren't you supposed to be resting?" Shadow asked finally.

"You aren't going to believe this," Torres said with a wicked grin. "I feel very relaxed. Fighting with you was good for me. I vented a lot of frustration."

Shadow eyed her askance. "If you say so. I'm worn out. I feel like I just ran a marathon. I think I need a nap. Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Are you really jealous of my relationship with Tom?"

B'Elanna shifted uncomfortably. "Not really. I know he literally has adopted you as a sister and thinks of you that way. I think he misses his older sisters. I do wish he'd talk to me the way he seems to talk to you. He won't discuss his past, his feelings about anything more important than books he's read---stuff like that."

"And when you ask---?"

"He changes the subject---or tries to kiss me---or makes a stupid joke," B'Elanna confessed. 

Malista winced and nodded. "I've been doing the same thing to Harry. He doesn't like it either. And now Harry has started to---act funny. He doesn't---oh, I don't know. He watches me all the time and when I ask him what's wrong---he says nothing. But I don't believe him. Sometimes I think he's jealous---but that's silly. We settled that issue when we decided we'd see each other exclusively."

"Maybe Harry just feels a little insecure. He'll get over it. I wouldn't worry about it. I do want to know one thing, Malista. What were you going to say when I asked why Tom talks to you and Harry? You said 'Maybe because neither Harry or I---'. What?"

Shadow shrugged. "I don't want to hurt your feelings, B'Elanna."

"Then tell me the truth!" she demanded impatiently.

"Can you handle the truth?"

"I don't know until I hear it!"

Shadow met her eyes directly as she replied. "Neither Harry or I have ever rejected Tom. Like you did. In the messhall that day."

"We didn't have---we hadn't made a commitment to each other then," Torres replied defensively. "You can't really say I rejected him. I told him I still wanted to be his friend."

"You'd been getting closer, friendlier, even flirting with him---he was beginning to trust you and open up," Malista stated. "Then you---without warning, as far as he was concerned---suddenly changed your mind. You decided you wanted to be 'just friends'. You pushed him away. Without a real reason. Can you wonder that he's not sure if he can trust you? Have you made a commitment to him now? Have you opened up to him? B'Elanna, you have to earn his trust all over again. It's going to take time."

"And I'm not the most patient---" Torres began. "I never meant to hurt him. But you know what bothers me? It's not just that he won't talk to me---it's that he never gets---upset. I never see him knocked off balance. He never loses control." She pounded the table with her fists, attempting to vent her frustration. "I don't trust anyone who never loses his temper."

"And Tom doesn't trust anyone who doesn't cry," Shadow stated matter-of-factly. "You two have some problems. You each want to stay in control of yourself, but you want the other to surrender control. How are you going to work it out?"

"We can't work it out if he won't talk to me!" Torres snarled, leaping to her feet and beginning to pace. 

"He's afraid to talk to you," Shadow said reluctantly. She didn't know how much she should say---how much she could say. She was treading a fine line between helping a friend and betraying a confidence.

"Afraid?" Torres snorted a disbelieving laugh. "Tom Paris, hotshot pilot? I didn't think he'd admit to being afraid of anything."

The taller woman shook her head sadly. "Underneath---the real Tom is a sensitive man. He cares deeply and sometimes he---his emotions---He thinks if you see him---vulnerable---He knows about Klingon honor. He's afraid you'll think he's a coward or a weakling. He knows you've heard the rumors about him, but what if he tells you which ones are true? He's afraid you'll be disappointed once you get to know the real him---and you'll brush him off---again." Her final word held a shade of condemnation. 

"Before you push Tom into confiding in you, B'Elanna, you'd better be damned sure you can handle the truth. If you can't---leave him alone. Break it off now, before you both get in any deeper. I don't think---I don't want to know the man Tom will become if you---" Tears filled her eyes. "Just think carefully. I don't know how many more rejections Tom can deal with. There have been too many. And yes, he pretends he doesn't care, that it doesn't matter---that it's a self-fulfilling prophecy ---but he does care! He cares passionately. He's just learned not to show it. Because if you show people where it hurts, it's like painting a target on your back---it shows them just where to hit you to hurt you the most."

Torres took a deep breath. Her chest felt tight---or perhaps it was her heart, aching for Tom Paris---and for Malista---and for herself---they'd all learned that lesson from painful experience. B'Elanna hated to think Tom thought he had to protect himself from her. "You two are a lot alike, aren't you?"

"Yes. Tom reminds me of some of the Greeks in my colony. My father's people are emotional---men and women alike---laugh, shout---and cry easily---It makes them a passionate people. Some of us have learned to hide that passion for life---that sensitivity---to keep from getting hurt. " Malista's face might have been carved in stone, it was so lacking in expression. But, as with Tom, her eyes expressed the unspoken pain she felt.

"I have to get back to work," Torres said, moving toward the exit as if escaping. "Thank you. I will think long and hard. I don't want to make another mistake."

Malista watched her go then turned back toward the lake, breathing deeply and trying to regain a sense of peace as she thought about Harry and their relationship. 'Maybe tonight,' she told herself. 'Maybe tonight would be a good time to tell him---what he wants to know. To let him know---that I want him. That I want more than kisses from him. If that's what he wants, too. Maybe he can help me learn how to...Maybe I won't be scared with Harry. He always makes me feel safe. He's so reliable.'

******************


	2. Chapter 2

******************

As soon as Harry Kim got off duty, he went to check on Malista Shadow. The computer had given her location as Holodeck 1, which was running the resort program. He had covered most of the resort before he found her. No one else was around. That was probably why she felt comfortable using the program and dressing appropriately. She was wearing a bathing suit, lying face down on a lounge chair next to the swimming pool. He grinned at the sight of those long, shapely, bare legs. He loved those legs. Harry started to call out to her then realized he might startle her as she lay basking in the holographic sunshine. He decided to wait till he got closer. As he neared, Freddie Bristow came out from behind a partition and sat down next to her on the edge of the chair. He began to rub oil on her bare back. 

Harry felt like he'd been kicked in the stomach. Malista wasn't even flinching away from Freddie's touch. She'd had Harry convinced she was afraid to be touched in such an intimate manner. And now she was letting Freddie Bristow---

Harry spun on his heel and left the holodeck. If he'd waited ten seconds longer, he would have felt much better and saved himself and everyone else a lot of heartache. Maybe.

A half-sleeping Malista, becoming aware of the size and warmth of the hands on her back, abruptly awoke and sat up. Identifying Bristow, she shoved him off the lounge chair and darted to her feet. "What happened to the holographic pool boy who was doing that?" she demanded, snatching up her robe and slipping it on to hide her body from Bristow's appreciative gaze.

"I deleted him?" Freddie returned, hauling himself to his feet with an appeasing, carefully calculated smile. He had been interested in Malista Shadow for weeks and had decided this was an ideal time to make his move. He found it impossible to believe she wasn't secretly delighted by his attentions. "I didn't mean to catch you by surprise. Why don't you lie down again? I'll rub oil on your legs."

Malista stared at him in amused disbelief at the sheer gall of the man. "No, thank you. And keep your hands off!" she added emphatically.

"Aw, come on, Malista," he said cajolingly. "I just want to get to know you better." He was tall, young, strong, and handsome. She couldn't possibly prefer Harry Kim who was almost three inches shorter than she was, and nowhere near as attractive as Freddie---in Freddie's opinion anyway.

"You're incredible!" Malista announced, spinning on her heel and stalking away. 

Freddie pondered that for a few minutes. Was she being sarcastic? Or merely playing hard to get?

**************

Tom Paris was in the process of changing into his civilian clothes when his door chime sounded. "Come," he said as he pulled a blue tee-shirt over his head.

Harry Kim stalked in and flung himself onto the recliner in Tom's living area. "Women!"

Tom raised an amused eyebrow. "Are you just now figuring that out?"

Harry glared at him. Stomping around in his quarters for forty-five minutes hadn't calmed him. If anything, his mood was worse. He felt ready to explode. Actually, the feeling had been building for days---like a bonfire being built stick by stick. Now the fuse had been lit.

"What now?" Tom said, dropping easily into the arm chair opposite Kim.

"Malista." 

"Oh."

"What do you mean 'Oh'?" Kim said, somewhat belligerently.

Tom shrugged calmly. "I don't know. What do you want me to mean?"

Harry shook his head, leaned back against the headrest, and fixed his eyes on the ceiling. 

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not especially."

Paris frowned at his friend. "Then what are you doing here?"

Harry sighed. "I don't have anyone else to talk to."

"Then talk to me."

Harry eyed him for a moment. "I don't know if I should."

"Why not?" Paris said with some degree of exasperation.

"Because I don't want to---I don't want to make you have to choose between Malista and me."

Tom winced. "That bad?"

"Yeah." Kim looked thoroughly depressed.

"Go ahead. What did she do?"

"She was in the resort with Freddie Bristow!" Harry exploded. "We're supposed to be dating each other exclusively---and there she was as big as life---in the resort with Freddie Bristow!"

"Come on, Harry," Paris said placatingly. "The resort is an open program. Everyone comes and goes there."

"He was rubbing oil on her back!" 

Tom winced again. "Whew," he whistled.

"And she says she doesn't like to be touched! HA! She probably wouldn't even let ME do that!" Kim bounced to his feet and stood in front of Paris, accusingly. He seemed to be demanding an explanation.

"Did you---ask her---"

"No! Of course not! I left the minute I saw them!"

"Well, then," Tom said reasonably, "you don't know if it was a date or just an accident that they were there together."

"He was rubbing oil on her back!" Harry repeated forcefully and indignantly. "Her *naked* back!" 

"Hold it!" Paris shouted, suddenly incensed. "She was *NAKED*?!"

"No! Don't be an idiot!" Kim retorted scathingly.

"You said she was *naked *!"

"I did not! I said her *back* was naked---and he was rubbing oil on it!"

Paris' brows met in the middle as he tried to understand. "Wait! So her back was naked, but the rest of her wasn't?"

Kim threw him an exasperated glare. "She was wearing a swim suit!"

The pilot relaxed back into his chair. "Oh, well, good. Well, what else would she be wearing at the resort? Did she look good in it?" He sent a wicked grin at his friend.

"What?! Paris, of course she looked good---too good! And that baktag Bristow had his hands all over her! And she wasn't objecting!" He'd learned a few Klingon insults in his association with Torres.

"Do you think he drugged her? Or got her drunk?" Paris asked, half seriously. He couldn't think of a more plausible explanation for Malista's allowing Freddie Bristow or anyone else---except maybe Harry---to touch her so intimately without objecting.

"No. Even Freddie's not that desperate," Kim muttered, resuming his pacing.

Paris smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand. "Of course, that's it!"

"What's it?!" Kim growled irritably.

"If she was asleep, she might not have known it was Freddie!"

"Who else could it be?"

Paris stood and blocked his friend's path. "Come on, Harry. You know the answer to that one. Most people use the holographic people to apply oil and fetch towels, that kind of thing. She may have thought it was a hologram putting the oil on her back. She's not afraid of holograms. They aren't programmed to get fresh. And if they do, all you have to do is delete them."

"How can I find out? If she doesn't want--- what if she wants to see other people?"

"Ask her."

"Yeah, sure," Kim said sarcastically. 

Paris sank back into his chair. "Okay. You don't like the direct approach? How about casually mentioning Freddie Bristow? If she's been cheating on you with him, you'll get a guilt reaction. Malista isn't sophisticated enough to hide her feelings that well---yet. We're supposed to meet B'Elanna and Malista at Sandrine's for dinner in ten minutes anyway. Come on, Harry. What's really going on? I thought you settled the jealousy issue when Malista quit playing games with the Delaneys."

Harry's shoulders slumped. He looked the picture of discouragement. "I don't know. She won't communicate with me. If I try to get her to talk about anything that matters, she---uh---distracts me."

"How does she do that?" Paris teased, suspecting the answer.

Harry glared at him. "You know. She starts kissing me or---touches me. If that doesn't work, she finds an excuse and leaves. Why won't she talk to me?"

Paris shrugged uncomfortably. Harry's description was beginning to remind him forcefully of complaints from Torres about his own refusal to open up. "Maybe she's afraid. Of your reaction. You might not like what you hear."

Kim frowned, deep in thought. "And she never argues!" 

"You *want* her to argue?" Paris raised an eyebrow.

"As opposed to being a---doormat, yes!" Harry exclaimed. "She never gets angry or tells me no, she just leaves---she disappears. Even if she's in the same room---if you know what I mean. I know I made her mad when I tried to get her to perform at our next concert, but she wouldn't even admit to that. She makes up excuses. She's not being honest with me about her feelings. And if she's not honest about her feelings, how can I trust her---" He broke off. He hadn't gotten near the subject of what was really bothering him, but this was getting a little too personal and Tom was beginning to look extremely uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. "Oh, never mind. We'll work it out."

"Sure, you will. Just be patient," Paris advised. He almost thanked his friend for giving him a glimpse of how B'Elanna must feel when he refused to share his feelings with her. But that wouldn't be tactful. "And don't worry about Freddie Bristow. I'm sure there's a perfectly reasonable explanation."

"I don't know," the ensign said glumly.

"Come on! I think you've got hold of the wrong end of the stick. Malista adores you! And well she should, you adorable little man," Paris teased, pinching at his friend's cheek.

Harry slapped his hand away. "Try not to be an idiot! And don't call me little!"

*****************

Sandrine's was fairly crowded. Luckily, B'Elanna and Malista had managed to snag a table and were waiting for Tom and Harry. Sue Nicoletti and Jenny Delaney were hovering nearby, talking to them. Just as Harry came up beside Malista, the four women burst into laughter.

"What's so funny?" Tom asked, bending to kiss Torres' cheek in greeting. It had quickly become a habit. Though Torres wasn't fond of public displays of affection, she tolerated them. 

"Freddie Bristow," Torres said, clasping his hand as he seated himself and pulled his chair closer to her side.

Tom exchanged fulminating glances with Harry. "So what has he been up to this time?"

"His usual single-minded pursuit of women," Sue said disgustedly.

"He made a pass at me this afternoon," Malista said, shaking her head disbelievingly. "At the resort. He deleted the holographic pool boy and took his place."

Jenny looked thoughtful. "You know, I think we should circulate a petition to have that boy neutered."

The women burst into shrieks of laughter at that idea. The men didn't think it was funny at all and frowned.

Harry reached for Malista's hand. "Are you okay?" He felt incredibly stupid and incredibly guilty for doubting her---whether she knew about it or not.

She smiled at him. "Yes. My name must have come up on his list. I assume he's working his way down the crew manifest. He just had to try, I guess."

Kim smiled wistfully. "He'd have to be crazy not to try. You're beautiful." He stroked her cheek with his fingertips.

Malista blushed and captured his hand in her own. Jenny and Sue glanced at each other. "Why do I suddenly feel de trop?" Sue asked rhetorically. "Come on, Jenny! Let's leave this foursome to their dinner."

"Okay. If we can't have him neutered, then how else can we get even with him?" Jenny asked as they strolled away. She still bore a grudge against Bristow for trying to date her and her twin at the same time. How he'd hoped to keep each sister from finding out that he was dating the other was a mystery no one had solved. Especially since he'd arranged the two dates consecutively on the same night.

"Lord, I hope Sue can rein in Jenny's imagination," Paris said fervently. 

Harry squeezed Malista's hand. "Do you want to help them plot revenge?"

"No, I don't think so," she said, grinning at Harry. "He's harmless. Freddie is merely convinced that he's God's personal gift to women everywhere."

"What a fool!" Tom commented lazily. "Everyone knows that's me! The line forms to the right, ladies!" He waved his arm in a wide gesture. The patrons of Sandrine's ignored him.

Torres thumped his shoulder. "Knock it off, Paris!" She was grinning.

"Well," he replied, "you certainly look a little calmer today. I heard the captain told you to take some time off to rest. You must have gotten in some good quality time."

To his surprise, B'Elanna's eyes danced with laughter as she traded looks with Malista who was also smothering a smile.

"What? What did you do with your time off?" Paris demanded. 

The ladies shook their heads and didn't answer.

"Harry, I sense a conspiracy!" he announced melodramatically.

Harry was enjoying watching Malista smile, but wondered why she didn't want to tell him what she'd been doing. Did she have something to hide? 

"How are you feeling?" he asked, ignoring Paris' antics. "Still sore from the accident?"

She shrugged. "A little. That's why I went to the resort---to bake the soreness from my muscles in the sunshine---even holographic sunshine."

"Then Freddie showed up and ruined it."

She seemed surprised at Harry's rancor toward Bristow. "It was nothing, Harry. I wish you could have come to the resort though." She leaned closer and whispered, "I'm sure your hands would have warmed the oil much better than the hologram's." She flicked his earlobe with her tongue and suppressed a giggle when he flinched and caught his breath. 

He sat back in his chair and stared at her. He wondered why she was being so---affectionate. Was she trying to keep him from asking questions? "You're in a good mood tonight."

She was beginning to relax enough to tease Harry. She smiled flirtatiously at him. "You think I'm in a good mood now, just wait until---" 

"Stop! My innocent ears can't handle this!" Paris exclaimed. "Now are we going to eat dinner, or what?"

"Are you going to stop clowning or what?" Torres muttered under her breath, suddenly tired of his nonsense.

The smile dropped away as Tom's eyes darted anxiously towards her. "Sorry, B'Elanna. I didn't mean to---" He stopped, because he wasn't sure what he'd done to provoke her.

Torres covered his hand with her own. "No, I'm sorry, Tom. I shouldn't have said that. You're having a good time. Supervising double shifts is beginning to wear on me." 

He was surprised she'd relented. But he appreciated it. He sent her one of his rare, genuine smiles, amusement flickering in the crystal blue depths. Smile Number Eight. He turned his hand under hers to grasp her fingers. "And what have you been up to? How are things down below in Engineering?"

"Busy. I don't want to talk about it. How are things up above on the bridge?" Torres asked.

"Harry found a source of deuterium in the next planetary system," Paris replied.

"Do we have to talk about work?" Malista asked. "Let's do something different." For her, this was a bold move. She usually followed the lead of the others.

"Like what?" Kim couldn't understand her sudden buoyant good spirits. Something had happened today. And if it wasn't Freddie Bristow, what could it have been? Maybe someone else had made a pass at her? Maybe she wasn't interested in Freddie because there was someone else? His imagination was running riot though it didn't show on his face. 

"Like---isn't it about time that Tom showed us how he can play that piano?" she suggested mischievously. 

Torres jumped in immediately. "Yes. I think so. Come on, Tom. Let's hear a song. This place is dying from lack of entertainment." 

Tom shook his head. "There are too many people here."

"That's why they call it a performance, Tom," Harry commented. "Come on! Show us what you can do! Nobody else is paying attention."

Tom gazed at his three companions. Harry and Malista were smiling encouragingly. B'Elanna regarded him seriously. Her brown eyes opened wide as she added her own argument. "Please? I'd like to hear you play."

Tom inhaled and blew out a deep breath. If B'Elanna wanted it---"You guys don't know what you're asking for. You should lower your expectations right away. But---okay." The trio followed him to the piano.

The crowd in Sandrine's noticed and quietly moved their chairs so they could watch what Paris was up to. As far as anyone present knew, the piano was just added as atmosphere. No one had ever played it. 

Paris made a great show of limbering up his fingers, then rested them lightly on the keys. "Any requests?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know your repertoire." He stood on Paris' right.

Torres, standing on his left, placed a hand on his shoulder. "Play something you like. Anything."

Malista stood next to Harry and offered Tom another encouraging smile as she leaned against the upright side of the piano. Kidding around, Tom performed a few dramatic riffs up and down the keys. His blue eyes widened and stared into B'Elanna's as he began to play. It was a beautiful piece of music. It sounded like a ballad---and it seemed familiar to Shadow and Torres. Still gazing at B'Elanna, Tom began to sing quietly in a lilting tenor voice. 

"I have dreamed thee too long,   
Never saw thee, or touched thee  
But know thee with all of my heart.  
Half a prayer, half a song,  
Thou hast always been with me,  
Though we have been always apart.  
Dulcinea, Dulcinea,  
I see heaven when I see thee, Dulcinea.  
And thy name is like a prayer an angel whispers.  
Dulcinea, Dulcinea.

If I reach out to thee,  
Do not tremble and shrink from the touch  
Of my hand on thy hair,  
If my fingers but see,  
Thou art warm and alive and no phantom  
To fade in the air.  
Dulcinea, Dulcinea,  
I have sought thee, sung thee, dreamed thee,  
Dulcinea. Dulcinea.

Now I've found thee   
And the world shall know thy glory,  
Dulcinea, Dulcinea."

Tom hadn't meant to become the center of attention. His was a private performance. But a silence had fallen in Sandrine's and now the only sound was Tom's voice and his music. As he became aware of it, he broke off and changed tunes, segueing into another song, directing his eyes and his attention to the keyboard. His polite facade was firmly in place once more.

Torres was having difficulty breathing. He knew she'd recognize the song from the play they'd seen in a holographic performance a few weeks ago. He had serenaded her. In public. The man who didn't like to show his feelings. He was putting them on display---for her. Of course, he was still hiding behind the music as if it were just a performance---but still! This was progress.

"Oh, I know that one," Malista said with a happy grin. Her back was to the listening crowd. Unaware of their interest, she began to sing in a strikingly pure alto, gazing at Harry Kim.

"The skies are green and glowing,   
Where my heart is, where my heart is,  
Where the scented lunar flower is growing.   
Somewhere beyond the sky, beyond Antares." 

Paris joined her, their voices blending as if they'd practiced for weeks.

"I'll be back though it takes forever,   
Forever is just a day.   
Forever is just another journey.   
Tomorrow---a step along the way."

"Then let the years go fading  
Where my heart is, where my heart is,  
My love eternally is waiting  
Somewhere beyond the sky, beyond Antares."

As they finished singing, Tom smiled up at her approvingly. There was a collective sigh from those listening partially in appreciation of the smooth, sensual blending of their voices and partially because the song's lyrics were haunting for those who were so far from home. Some had left their loves waiting in the Alpha Quadrant, which was literally beyond Antares. There were a few sniffling sounds heard in the dim lighting of the bar. 

Malista jumped self-consciously as those present began to applaud. She shrank into Harry's welcoming arms. He was smiling. "You have a beautiful voice, Malista. Play something else, Tom." Good music always lightened his mood.

"Do you want to sing anything special?" Paris asked.

"No," Shadow denied. "I don't sing in public." She hid her hot face in Harry's neck, threading her fingers through his thick inky hair as she nestled against him, nuzzling his neck. 

Tom flashed her a grin. "Don't look now, Sis, but you just did."

"I only sang that one because I knew it. And I forgot anyone else was here. I had a recording made by Nyota Uhura," Shadow explained.

"I have that recording too. I have quite a few musical selections from the Uhura Museum of Musicology Collection," Paris said. "Let's see, how about something everyone can sing along with?" He ran his fingers up and down the keys while he thought about it. A movement near the doorway caught his eye. Lt. Tuvok had just entered Sandrine's. The Security Officer's presence inspired Paris. He began to play and everyone---except Tuvok---launched into the first of fifteen verses of "What Do You Do With A Grumpy Vulcan?". 

Tuvok eyed the entire proceedings with a disdainfully raised eyebrow---which just made the raucous verses even more amusing to the group of singers. 

At the conclusion, Paris stood and melodramatically took a bow. He extended a hand toward Shadow. She took the second curtain call with him. Then the foursome adjourned to the table and ordered dinner.

*************

Paris walked Torres to her cabin. They had their arms around each other. "Tom, what does Dulcinea mean?"

Tom cleared his throat uneasily. "It comes from a Latin word and means 'sweet or delightful'." He suppressed a wince. He wasn't sure how she'd react.

Torres keyed the code to her cabin door, and pulled Paris inside. As the door slid shut behind them she thrust him up against the wall and placed her hands on either side of him to keep him in place. She looked up into his face. "Thank you. No one ever sang a song just for me before. It was beautiful."

She could read in his expression that he was tempted to make a joke, to lighten the atmosphere. Fortunately, he resisted temptation. "I'm glad you liked it. I wasn't sure---if you'd be embarrassed or---"

She grabbed the nape of his neck and pulled his lips down to hers and devoured them with a kiss. 

When they paused for a moment to breathe, he gasped, "I guess you weren't embarrassed." She growled at him and nipped lightly at his neck. He tipped her chin up again to gaze into her chocolate eyes. "You are one beautiful lady."

"I almost believe you mean that," Torres said, trying to escape his grasp.

He refused to let her go, forcing her to look him in the eyes once more. "I do mean it. B'Elanna, I don't understand how you can't see it." He ran his finger caressingly down the center of her forehead. "I love these bumps," he whispered.

She eyed him skeptically, thinking he had to be joking. "What?"

He tilted his head to study them at an angle. "Yeah. They kind of make a little road map, pointing the way down to your beautiful," he nipped at her lower lip, "lovely, mouth. Not that I need a map." He created a trail with his lips, working his way from her chin to her hairline, speaking between kisses. "I can't believe how---lucky, how blessed I am to have met you---I have a hard time believing that this isn't all a dream. I'm afraid I'm going to wake up---and you and Voyager and Harry and Malista---will all be figments of my imagination and I'll still be in New Zealand." He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall. 

She studied him for a moment. She was tempted to get him to talk about New Zealand---and how he'd gotten there, but she remembered what Malista had said to her on the holodeck---that before she pushed Tom into confiding in her, Torres had better be sure she could handle the truth---no matter what it might be. 

Heavy discussions could wait. But a distraction was definitely called for. She moved her arms up to encircle his neck. "This is real, Helmboy!" she insisted. "If you don't believe me---" She pressed her body against his---and bit his trapezium muscle.

"OW!" Paris yelped, his eyes flying open. "Torres, the traditional way to convince someone they aren't dreaming is to pinch them---not chew them!"

"Cry baby!" she accused with a grin. "I can do pinching too." One hand dropped toward his backside.

He caught her wrists and pinned her hands lightly behind her back. "You're a dangerous woman," he complained insincerely. There it was! Smile Number Nine ---eyes sparkling, genuine, brilliant smile. This was the smile Torres wished to see all the time.

She growled and snapped her teeth at him. "That's what you get for being such a temptation, hotshot. You look like dessert to me. Your skin looks like cream over strawberries---especially when you blush---Yeah! Like that!"

Paris could feel his skin heating and knew he was turning pink. The curse of a fair complexion. "Enough biting already. If you're still hungry---"

"Tom!"

"What?"

"Stop talking---and kiss me!"

Lieutenant Tom Paris knew how to follow orders. So he did.

******************

Harry escorted Malista back to her cabin. She was snuggling against his arm and shoulder and using her free hand to trace the outline of his cheek and jaw line. She let herself be distracted from displaying her affection for him for a moment so she could key in the code for her door. As the door slid open, Harry hesitated. 

Malista didn't notice and grabbed his hand, towing him inside her quarters. She led him to the couch, let him seat himself then sat right next to him, prepared to do a little cuddling. It seemed Harry had other ideas.

He drew away from her and turned his body at a forty-five degree angle, making it more difficult for her to get close to him. She moved back warily, not understanding his lack of response. "Harry, are you all right? Is something wrong?"

"Let's talk," he said, trying for a smile. His mind was awhirl with topics he wanted to raise.

"Okay." She waited. He said nothing, just looked vaguely uneasy. She lifted her eyebrows at him. "What did you want to talk about?"

"You're in a very good mood tonight," Kim commented again. It didn't sound like he was happy about it.

"I am," Shadow agreed. She smiled and tried to take his hand, but he slipped it out of her reach. Fighting a sense of rejection, she folded her hands in her lap and sat up straight. "What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing," Harry blurted. "Nothing's wrong with it. I just don't understand why you're so---outgoing and---affectionate all of a sudden."

Her green eyes were solemn. "It isn't all of a sudden, Harry. It's been growing for a while."

He looked at her blankly, unconvinced.

"Well, actually, maybe I am in a better mood today than usual," she added placatingly. "The doctor says I can resume my duties tomorrow."

Harry's expression didn't lighten. "Are you sure you're physically healed?"

"The doctor is. Harry, what is it?" she asked nervously as he stared at her with a strange, distant look on his face.

"So what else did you do today?" Kim asked, watching her expression intently---almost as if trying to read her mind---or trying to decide if she was answering truthfully.

"I helped Neelix in the kitchen---oh, you know that! You saw me at lunch then--" She paused to think, not sure what he really wanted to know. "Then B'Elanna came to lunch, and the captain joined us. Everyone loved the souvlaki. It was my grandmother's recipe---and Neelix didn't---"

"And after lunch?" Harry interrupted. That was unusual. Normally, he was a model of polite behavior. He never interrupted. 

She decided she must be telling him too many details. Maybe he wanted a general idea. "I went to the holodeck."

"The resort?"

"No, that was later. The first time I was at Lake Como."

"Alone?" There was a hint of sharpness in the word.

She didn't like this one bit. He sounded accusatory. "No," she began to match his abruptness. He frowned at her. She was beginning to frown herself. "Actually, B'Elanna joined me for a while."

"B'Elanna?!" 

She could tell that wasn't an answer he'd expected. "Yes, you can ask her if you like," she added in an attempt to appease him.

Harry shook his head. "Why would I want to do that?"

"I don't know, Harry. Why would you? Would you please tell me what this is all about?" she asked, torn between impatience and hurt.

"What is what all about?" Kim feigned ignorance, but couldn't meet her eyes. 

She flounced off the couch and faced him, forcing him to look up at her. "What is this interrogation about? What is it you think I've done? You've been acting weird all night. All day. For several days for that matter. What is the problem?"

He was almost surprised. She'd never been so direct before. "I don't know. Why don't you tell me? What is the problem, Malista?"

She shook her head, totally confused. "Harry, what's going on here? Is this about the accident? Are you still blaming yourself?" It was the only explanation for his atypical behavior that came to her mind.

"Why?" His head snapped up, and he got to his feet, facing her with his arms crossed. He looked defensive. "Do you blame me for it?"

"No," she said insistently. "It was just an accident. It wasn't your fault or anyone else's."

"Chell says you changed out the coupling anyway---with the power still on!" he accused.

She flinched. She knew he was a very by-the-book Starfleet officer. She'd known he'd disapprove and hoped he wouldn't find out about that. "I know that's not exactly according to Starfleet protocols---"

"No, it isn't. Were you trying to get yourself killed? Was it another suicide attempt?"

She felt her mind reeling from the unexpected attack. "No!" She couldn't believe that would even cross his mind! "The situation was urgent---the power coupling was going to go out! I could tell---and if we'd lost power then---you said yourself we couldn't afford to lose power to the shields! Harry, this isn't like you!"

"It isn't? What, I'm not supposed to question your reckless behavior? You almost got yourself killed! Are you sure that wasn't the idea?" Harry heard himself saying outrageous things---but he couldn't seem to stop himself. He wanted her to--- he wasn't sure any more what he wanted. 

She closed her eyes momentarily, trying to calm herself and think clearly. "Harry, I don't know how to convince you---"

Her soothing voice had exactly the opposite effect of what she intended. She was hiding from him again. She wouldn't tell him the truth. "Fine. Then let's talk about Freddie Bristow."

Her eyes snapped open to stare at him in astonishment. "Freddie Bristow? What about him?"

His jaw clenching, he returned her stare grimly. "Or maybe there's someone else you've been spending your free time with, while you've been off duty?"

"What?!" The injustice, the unfairness, and the unexpectedness of the question totally floored her. She walked away from him toward the viewport. She couldn't stand to be close to him---not when he was behaving like some kind of raving lunatic. This was not the Harry Kim she had come to know in the past six weeks. This man was a stranger---and he was scaring her.

"Harry, I thought we settled this weeks ago. We said we were going to be open and honest with each other---no more games. We also said we would be seeing each other exclusively. That was the exact word you used. Exclusively. And that's what I agreed to. I don't want---other men," she said almost pleading. "I want you. Believe me!"

"Are you sure you aren't just curious? About sex? How do I know you aren't using me to satisfy your curiosity---because I'm safe? Because young Ensign Kim is safe? Is there anyone else on the ship less---threatening?" He sounded bitter. "You want to let me teach you some 'life lessons', use me to learn about men, then move on to other new experiences, right?"

"Harry," she whispered, then choked as she couldn't think of a response to an idea so foreign to her way of thinking.

He remained standing in the center of the room. Speaking half to himself, he muttered, "At least I never had to worry about Libby like this. She never tried to make me jealous."

"What did you say?" Malista said slowly, her voice low, harsh, and perfectly enunciating each syllable. 

"I said, Libby never treated me this way," Harry said more loudly. "I could trust her. She didn't flirt with other men. We shared something special, something wonderful. She would talk to me, not play games. I didn't have to guess what she wanted---she'd tell me the truth---not just what I wanted to hear!"

Her face an icy mask, she revolved slowly to face him. "Go away, Harry," she said coldly.

"What?" He hadn't expected that. She usually avoided confrontation and changed the subject. He'd hoped she'd tell him off.

"Get out." When he didn't move, she raised her right hand and pointed to the door. "Get out of my quarters. Right now." Her voice was emotionless, dispassionate. 

She didn't care. She must not care about him at all. She'd just been using him to satisfy her curiosity about---physical relationships. Now she'd move on to someone else. If she cared---she would answer his accusations---with fire! The way B'Elanna would. Harry turned and walked out of the cabin. 

As the door slid shut behind him, Malista thought, not for the first time, that it was a shame you couldn't slam doors on a starship. She felt a need to slam something. She strode to her table, picked up the vase of flowers---roses that Harry had brought her---and hurled it against the wall near the door. The crash and splintering of the glass were small consolation. She sank to her knees beside the couch, buried her face in her arms and sobbed.

****************

Tom was in a great mood. He and B'Elanna had made it through one whole evening without getting into an argument or speaking a cross word. Their relationship was improving every day---every moment. He superstitiously crossed his fingers---just in case. 

As he sauntered into the messhall for breakfast, he wondered if the lights were actually brighter than usual or if it was his imagination because he felt so wonderful. 

Then Tom spotted Harry Kim, sitting alone at a corner table, his shoulders slumped, hair rumpled from running his fingers through it---looking like he'd been on a three day bender. 

Taking his tray to Harry's table, Paris slid into the chair opposite his friend silently. He wiped the smile off his face as he took in Harry's bloodshot eyes and the dark circles under them. "Not sleeping well?" Tom said quietly.

"Why are you whispering?" Kim asked listlessly.

Tom returned to his normal volume. "I thought you were hung over."

"Well, I'm not!" Kim snapped. "I leave that kind of behavior to you." He clasped his coffee cup with both hands and brought it to his lips.

Tom nodded. "Okay. Fine. Whatever. I'll leave you to it." He got to his feet with his tray, his face impassive, his mood suddenly a little less bright.

Harry knew he'd hurt his friend though Tom was determined not to show it. "Tom! Sit down. I'm sorry." He paused till Paris had complied with his request. "It's not you. And I'm not hung over. I didn't sleep much last night."

"You seemed fine when we left Sandrine's. What was the problem?" Paris asked tentatively, trying not to sound too pushy. "Indigestion?" Their late meal had been a little on the heavy side---but delicious.

"No." Harry focused his eyes on the remaining coffee in his cup. He rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger. 

"Do you have a headache?"

"Yes."

"Want to go to Sickbay?"

Harry just looked at him.

"Okay, no Sickbay. Would it help to talk about it?"

Kim shook his head angrily. "No. I just made a total ass of myself last night."

"Oh," Paris said sympathetically. He'd been there. Done that. More than once. "One of those nights, huh?"

"And Malista will probably never speak to me again!"

"Uh-oh."

Harry ran his fingers through his hair impatiently---not for the first time that morning. "When did I become a jealous idiot? Did the transition sneak up on me or what?"

"You didn't?" Paris scoffed. "Freddie Bristow?"

Harry nodded. 

"Oh, Harry! You knew that was nothing!" Paris sat back in his chair, and took a sip of his coffee. 

"I know. I just don't understand---why did I let it bother me? I knew she wasn't interested in him---but I---you wouldn't *believe* the things I said, Tom! I don't believe them!" He banged his hand against his forehead. "I couldn't seem to stop myself. All my insecurities just came boiling out---and she still wouldn't get mad at me! She didn't yell or call me an idiot---or tell me I was wrong. She stood there and let me---She must not care about me at all," he concluded morosely.

"Harry, I don't know what to tell you. I had the idea she--- she was falling in love with you." Paris' brow crinkled thoughtfully. "Why did you expect her to yell? She isn't the yelling type. She doesn't explode like B'Elanna."

"That's the point. With B'Elanna, you always know where you stand! I can't tell what Malista is thinking. She won't tell me! I tried to get her to answer me last night! I even told her that Libby didn't act that way," he protested.

Paris sat forward and grabbed Harry's forearm, his expression horrified. "No! Tell me you didn't!"

"Didn't what?"

Tom shook his head sorrowfully. "You did! You said the L word!"

"L word?" Kim asked bemusedly, unsure if Tom was just being dramatic or if there was cause for concern.

"You said 'Libby'."

"Yeah? So?"

"Harry, Harry, Harry!" Paris said, despairing of his friend's good sense. "You never---*never*---compare the women in your life! That's lesson number one! Did you skip that chapter?"

"I wasn't exactly comparing them," he mumbled.

"It doesn't matter if you don't think so. She's going to think you are," Tom informed him. "And she'll never---ever---forget what you said. You are in it really deep now, Harry Kim."

"You don't even know what I said."

"It doesn't matter. You just don't get it, do you? " Paris said, sighing exasperatedly. "You brought Libby into it---you just told Malista you still think about Libby."

"Of course, I still think about her. I love her."

"Sssh!" Tom shushed him urgently. "Stop saying that!"

"Malista knows I love Libby. I told her so," Harry said.

"That was before you started dating Malista, right?" 

"Right."

"Well, now she doesn't want to hear that!"

"If she knows it, she knows it," Harry said. "Hearing it or not hearing it, isn't going to change anything!"

"Stop trying to be a logical, rational, engineering type, Harry! She may know it, but she doesn't want to hear it," Paris insisted. "If she doesn't hear it, she can pretend Libby doesn't exist---and that you aren't comparing everything she says and does to your perfect girlfriend back home!"

"I never said Libby was perfect!"

"No, but how would you like to compete with someone who's an idol to the person you're in love---you care about? In a competition you're always going to lose? There's no way to win!" 

Harry felt a sudden certainty that he had mentioned Libby on more than one occasion---and he was unsure how Malista had felt about it. Did she resent it? She'd never said so, but then she hadn't been very forthcoming in expressing herself. Maybe she was waiting for him---No, she would have said something if it really bothered---wouldn't she? Remembering her silence the night before---under extreme provocation---Harry wasn't so sure she would have spoken up. 

"How do you know so much about it?" Harry asked sullenly.

Paris fixed his eyes on his plate. His sunny mood had now thoroughly dissipated. "Experience," he finally said diffidently. He didn't want to think about his own problems with B'Elanna's admiration of Chakotay right now. He checked the time. "We now have ten minutes before we report to the staff meeting. I think you need to go freshen up, Harry. Maybe the situation with Malista isn't as bad as you think."

"Yeah, right." The ensign disappeared, leaving Paris picking listlessly at the food on his tray. 

*****************


	3. Chapter 3

Captain Kathryn Janeway's eyes made a quick surveillance of the expressions of her senior staff members before dismissing the meeting. It had been one of the quietest and strangest meetings they'd ever experienced. 

Ensign Harry Kim, usually alert and interested in every aspect of the ship's status, had straggled in looking as though someone had pulled him through a knothole backwards. He was not meeting anyone's eyes, but seemed to be especially avoiding looking at Torres and Paris.

Paris had strolled in, trying to appear cheerful, but not quite convincing anyone. His eyes kept darting warily between Kim and Torres as if he were considering something he'd never thought of before and was unsure what their reaction would be. 

B'Elanna had been in good spirits until she got close to Paris and sensed that he was upset. She'd settled into a brooding state, dividing her attention between Paris and Kim, sensing a level of tension between the two. 

Neelix was miffed because the entire crew had let him know they wanted more dishes like the souvlaki he'd served for lunch the day before---and that wasn't even his recipe. His feelings were hurt by the general lack of appreciation for his efforts at producing Delta Quadrant cuisine. Kes, Chakotay, Tuvok, and Janeway seemed to be the only members present who were not off their stride.

"Dismissed," Janeway said, watching with a measure of concern as Torres, Kim, Paris, and Neelix walked quickly out of the room trying their best to ignore each other. Tuvok followed them. The captain turned her gray eyes on Kes.

The diminutive blond shook her head slightly. "Neelix will get over it. I'll talk to him."

"Do you know what's going on with the other three?" Janeway asked. "Did Tom and Harry have a disagreement?" That would explain the tension---and why B'Elanna was watching both of them. 

Kes shook her head again. "I saw Tom and Harry at breakfast. Tom looked very---happy when he came in. Harry was looking gloomy so Tom went to talk to him. It didn't seem like they were arguing with each other exactly---but they were both upset by the time they left the messhall."

Chakotay shrugged when Janeway looked at him. "Everything was fine last night at Sandrine's. You missed Tom and Malista performing a duet---with surprisingly good voices. Then we had a sing along. When they left after dinner, all four of them seemed all right."

Janeway sighed. "Maybe it will all blow over. Let's go see about that deuterium in this planetary system." She was almost looking forward to entering into negotiations with a new race, rather than dealing with shipboard tensions.

****************

If the tension had run high in the staff meeting, it was nothing to the level it reached when B'Elanna called for two repair teams to come to the bridge. The power couplings in the critical systems had been replaced immediately as a first priority. Now there was time enough to replace the power couplings in the non-critical systems. 

The repair teams that came to the bridge consisted of Malista Shadow, Chell, Gerron, and Susan Nicoletti. The moment the turbolift doors opened to admit the foursome with their toolkits in hand, Captain Janeway noticed an increase in the rigidity of Ensign Kim's posture, though his face remained carefully blank. 

'Ah,' Kathryn thought, 'it's not a Paris/Kim problem. It's Kim/Shadow problem. And Paris has involved himself. Which means B'Elanna will get into it as well.' She cringed at that idea. 'This could get messy.'

Tom eyed Shadow assessingly as she and the others went to the Engineering position to consult with Torres. The chief engineer followed Paris' gaze. Shadow, overnight, had closed herself off. She had reverted to the silent, unemotional, withdrawn persona that had kept her practically invisible among Voyager's crew for three years. Her face was paler than normal even under the makeup she wore. The makeup couldn't hide the fact that her eyes were reddened, a sure symptom of either a sleepless night or a crying jag---or both. Even Chell, who was normally oblivious to the moods of others, seemed subdued and concerned about his partner.

Torres got right down to business. She'd find out what was going on later---and do something about it. She didn't know who was to blame---Harry Kim or Malista Shadow---but *one* of them had upset Tom Paris. He'd been feeling on top of the world when he left her cabin last night. Now, he looked like a world or a small portion of one had landed on his shoulders. 

As far as B'Elanna Torres was concerned, *no one* was allowed to upset Tom Paris. Not given to introspection, she chose not to dwell on the surge of protectiveness she felt toward the helmsman, but diverted her energy into assigning the teams to sections of the bridge panels.

There was no way for Harry Kim to avoid seeing Malista Shadow as she went about doing her job. From his position at Ops, every part of the bridge was within his line of sight. He did his best to keep his eyes on his instruments. He happened to glimpse up once just as Chell walked by, to find the Bolian peering at him suspiciously through narrowed eyes. Harry recoiled from the enmity he saw there and ran a second totally unnecessary diagnostic on the Ops station.

"Approaching the deuterium source, Captain," Lieutenant Paris reported.

"Begin a sensor sweep, Mr. Kim," Captain Janeway ordered.

"Aye, Captain." He performed the functions almost mechanically. The bridge was quiet that shift. Too quiet. It was the quiet before the storm. Though it would take some time for the storm to build.

***************

Tom walked into his quarters when his shift ended and noticed a blinking light on his computer terminal. He had a message. He tapped a few keys and called the message up on the screen. "Meet me in Holodeck One when you get off duty. Wear workout clothes. Malista."

Well, that answered one question. She had managed to avoid being alone with him all day---during meal breaks as well as during their duty period. Now it seemed she might be ready to talk. He hoped so. He was also hoping that Harry Kim had exaggerated the severity of the---quarrel they'd had. He hoped so. But he didn't really think so. 

Tom changed into black sweat pants and a light blue tee-shirt and headed for the Holodeck.

****************

Harry Kim headed straight for his quarters at the end of Alpha shift. He didn't want to take any chance of running into Malista, Tom, or B'Elanna. The entire shift he'd been aware of their eyes on him as they went about their jobs.

The total lack of expression on Malista's face confused him. If she was angry, he expected her to glare. If she didn't care, he expected a show of indifference. There was just nothing there that he could read.

Harry sat down at his desk, activated his computer terminal, and called up his file of personal pictures. Somehow gazing at pictures of his parents and Libby---just didn't comfort him any more. He sighed then slapped at the controls, turning the computer off. 

Against his will, his mind traveled back to the night before. What had he said? Why? Why had he been so sure she was cheating on him? That she was interested in other men? She had never---by look or word---shown any signs of flirting---not since they had come to an understanding at the Cinco de Mayo party at the resort. She'd flirted with him, teased him, kissed him---'Oh, gods,' he thought, 'What did I do?' 

He'd attacked her on several levels at once. Professionally. Personally. Sexually. He hadn't given her a chance to explain. He realized that he had taken a thread of suspicion and insecurity and woven a whole cloth of betrayal out of it. He was the one who was feeling insecure in their relationship and he took it out on her. Instead of just telling her how he felt. 

How ironic. He'd gotten angry in the first place because she wouldn't share her feelings with him. Then he'd done the same thing to her. He hadn't shared his feelings until they'd erupted like molten lava bursting free and searing everything it touched. 

He didn't know what to do now. He had no earthly idea how he could even begin to apologize---or explain. If she was interested in either an apology or an explanation. He didn't know that either. He didn't know how she could ever forgive him for treating her that way---after telling her he cared for her---in deed, if not in so many words. 

He didn't know if Tom would ever forgive him for hurting Malista. And if Tom didn't forgive him, neither would B'Elanna. He didn't know if he could forgive himself.

He turned the computer back on, calling up his family pictures once more. He studied his mother's smiling face. She was the people person. She always knew how to make everyone feel welcome in her home. She always knew how to help people who were hurting. Harry felt tears welling in his eyes. He'd never missed his mother more than he did at this moment. "Mom," he whispered, "what do I do now?" As he expected, no easy answer came to him.

**********************

The holodeck was on a privacy lockout. Entry was authorized only to Tom Paris, B'Elanna Torres, and Malista Shadow. Tom entered and immediately felt his jaw drop with amazed joy. "Wow!" His azure eyes widened to their limits as he took in the atmosphere and setting.

It was a circus. He'd helped Malista with the parameters of the program, but he hadn't expected this! It was incredible! The interior of the big tent seemed to stretch on forever. The ground was covered with sawdust, lending an authentic smell and feel to the illusion. Even in the 24th century, circuses still used sawdust---partly because it was a tradition, partly because every circus still had animal acts---and not all of them were completely housebroken. The sawdust facilitated clean ups.

The center ring of the circus had a huge net stretched across it. Tom's gaze drifted upward as he heard a whistle. There a bar suspended between two long ropes was swinging back and forth at least one hundred feet above the ground. Dangling upside down by her knees from the bar, was Malista Shadow wearing green sparkly tights.

"What are you doing?" Tom shouted.

"I'm the daring young girl on the flying trapeze!" she retorted. "Watch this!"

Tom's eyes caught a flurry of motion on the other side of the rigging. B'Elanna Torres, wearing red sparkly tights, was holding another trapeze and launching herself into flight. As she reached the center, she let go of the bar, spun in midair, and stretched to reach Malista's waiting hands. She missed.

"Argh!" she growled as she fell and bounced into the net far below. She rolled to the edge of the net, grasped it and flipped herself over to land on the floor.

Tom applauded. "You did that like an expert!" He really liked those tights---and red was definitely B'Elanna's color.

Torres frowned at him impatiently. "I wasn't supposed to miss!"

"I meant the dismount," Tom explained, leaning forward to place a soft kiss on her cheek. "That's just how they do it at the circus."

"Oh." Torres looked up at Malista who was now sitting on the trapeze bar, still swinging. "What did I do wrong?"

"It's all in the timing," Shadow shouted. "If you time it right, you don't have to reach. I grab your wrists. You don't have to grab for mine. You want to try it, Tom?"

Paris waggled his brows at Torres. "Show me how?"

"Sure. Come on, Flyboy! Up the ladder!" The half Klingon charged up as if leading an assault.

Tom grinned and followed her. "I'd follow you anywhere." Especially if she was wearing those tights!

Malista had dismounted and was standing on the rigging on the opposite side. "Okay. Now try something simple to start. You start swinging on that trapeze and I'll send you this one. When they meet in the middle, switch trapezes."

Tom looked a little dubious, but game to try anything once. He got a good grip on the trapeze and pushed off.

"Pump your legs. You need to get some height!" Malista instructed. "That's better. Okay. Here it comes. Take your time."

The second trapeze came within reach. Tom released, turned, and grabbed, making the switch clumsily but making it nonetheless. He swung over toward Malista's perch. She reached out and helped pull him up on her platform. "Hi! That was pretty good---for an amateur." 

His eyes met hers. "Are you okay?"

She didn't pretend not to know what he was talking about. "Not now. I will be. But not now. And no, I don't want to talk about it."

He nodded slowly, his eyes steady on hers. They communicated without words. He knew she was hurting. It seemed Harry had dealt her a deep, hurtful blow. Tom couldn't begin to guess at the depth of the pain, but he knew it was there. She knew that he knew---and she didn't want his help right now. She needed to deal with it herself. The offer of help and the rejection of it took place in less than ten seconds.

"Hey!" B'Elanna shouted. "Let's try that catch again!"

Tom smiled. "She's not the most patient student. Are you sure you want to teach her how to fly?"

Malista forced a small smile. "She'll love the exercise---and the challenge. It's not as easy as it looks. Just don't turn it into a competition." She turned her attention back to Torres. "Okay. Let me start, then you match your rhythm to mine. Remember we have to reach the apex at the same time."

Torres waved to show she understood. Malista latched onto the trapeze and began to swing. This time Torres made it---barely. Malista grabbed her wrists and held on tightly, swinging her up to join Tom on the platform.

"This is great!" B'Elanna said exuberantly, hugging the pilot. "How does she know this? I thought circuses had pretty much disappeared."

Tom grinned at her enthusiasm. "On Earth, yes. Not in the colony worlds and outer systems. Lots of traveling circuses in the outpost areas where entertainment is scarce. Malista's family were the---Malista! What was your family's act called?" 

Malista was standing on the trapeze bar, pumping her legs to get moving faster and higher. "The Flying Petrides! Specializing in the trapeze and high wire!"

"Her family were olive farmers---evidently olives and the oil are still a big part of Greek cuisine---and during the off-season, they toured with a circus on their colony world. Malista's been flying---that's what they call this---since she was four!" Tom explained. "Hey, show B'Elanna the double! Or have you forgotten how?" he taunted.

Malista stuck her tongue out at him. "Computer, add holographic partner, Shadow program seven, subroutine five." 

A holographic muscle man wearing white tights suddenly appeared on the platform next to Tom and B'Elanna. He snatched the other trapeze and swung himself up on it. He began pumping then dropped till his knees were holding the bar. His hands outstretched. Malista matched his tempo. At the top of her swing, she quickly released the bar, spun in the air head over heels---not twice, but three times---and grabbed the man's wrists. She was grinning as he swung her up to join Tom and B'Elanna. 

"Show off," Tom muttered, with a mock frown. "I bet I could do that!"

Both women raised skeptical eyebrows at him.

"Not now," he added. "I plan to work my way up to it." He noticed that Shadow was unconsciously rubbing her shoulder. "Did you overdo it?"

She dropped her hand. "Yeah. I've been here about thirty minutes. Maybe it was pushing it to do a triple. The doctor said to work my way up to strenuous exercise---but I just got excited. It's been so long. I missed the---freedom, the feeling of flying."

"Well, you've probably had enough exercise for now," Tom peered down at the sawdust floor. "How do we get down from here?"

B'Elanna grinned smugly. "You could go down the ladder---but that's boring."

"Oh, well, how else---" Tom began.

Torres pushed him off the platform. He yelled "Torres!" in an extended yodel all the way down. He bounced in the center of the net and lay there, still amazed at the sensation. That was almost like free fall. But without the queasiness. He wanted to do it again.

"Tom! You have to move! You saw how B'Elanna did it."

Tom shook his head ruefully as he rolled off the net. One thing about B'Elanna Torres---he'd never be bored with her around.

B'Elanna followed him, bouncing in the net and rolling off like a pro.

"You---" Tom said, wagging a finger at her. "I owe you one!"

"And I always collect," Torres purred, sliding her eyes at him in a sidelong glance.

He loved when she did that. The effect was the same as if she'd stroked his cheek or kissed him in that special spot behind and below the ear. It sent hot chills up and down his spine. He'd never known there was such a thing as a hot chill--- until he'd kissed B'Elanna Torres.

Malista joined them on the floor. "Well, what do you think?" She looked around the holodeck, enjoying the minute details that made the circus atmosphere seem so real. There were even animal sounds drifting softly through the tent walls as if there were animals in cages just outside. 

"Where's the cotton candy?" Tom whined.

Torres elbowed him. 

"OW! Torres, if you don't quit trying to crack my ribs with your pointy little elbow, I swear I'm going to start wearing armor!"

Malista turned away from their cheerful banter and lost herself in studying the rigging. "I wonder if I could still do the high wire. I'm rusty."

Torres and Paris exchanged looks. "Come on, Malista," Tom said cajolingly. "Where are the food vendors? That's half the fun of a circus. Peanuts, popcorn, cotton candy, corny dogs, candy apples---all that good stuff that you throw up as soon as you get home!"

"That's disgusting," Torres said, making a face.

"You've obviously never really done a circus properly," Tom commented virtuously. "Eating yourself into a stupor on stuff your mom won't let you have at home is half the fun."

Malista turned and smiled at the pair of them. "It's okay. I know it's time for dinner. Why don't you two go ahead?"

"You want to come with us to the mess hall?"

Her eyes suddenly frosted over. "No."

"And I suppose Sandrine's is out?" 

"Yes."

"You have to eat."

"Tom, don't nag," she said tiredly. "I'll eat in my quarters. I still have plenty of replicator rations."

"Malista---" Torres began.

"No. B'Elanna, I don't want to talk about it," she shrugged, moving over to a bench next to the center ring to pick up her robe.

"I want to know what happened," Paris stated. "And if it would do any good for me to go punch out Harry Kim." He didn't sound like he was joking. 

Torres put her hand on his arm. He looked down at her. She shook her head, her brown eyes convincing him he shouldn't push his 'little sister' right now. It was too soon.

Malista slipped the dark green robe on over her tights and belted the waist. "Tom, B'Elanna, there is one thing I want to tell you," she said impassively. "What happened is between Harry and me. I don't want you to---interfere. I never wanted to come between you. You three have been friends since you all came aboard Voyager. I don't want my---anything to do with me to ruin that friendship."

"That may not be your decision," Tom replied, his jaw taut, his posture stiff.

Malista looked at him sharply. "You don't know what happened, Tom. Stay out of it. Harry is your friend. I'm your friend. I'm not asking you to take sides---I wouldn't do that to you---to either of you. I can't---I don't think I can be around Harry. Not yet. I'm going to stay out of his way. But you two---I can still see you. Just don't try to---fix things, okay? It will only make things---worse." She tried to hide the tears filling her eyes by retying the sash at her waist. "I think it's---we're beyond fixing. It just didn't work out."

Tom and B'Elanna stepped forward and hugged her, one on each side. She put her arms around both of them. After a moment, she stepped back. "Thanks. Both of you. I'll be okay," she said, reassuring them. "Really. I will. You can tell Harry---no, on second thought, never mind. Well, B'Elanna," she said with false heartiness. "How do you like my exercise program?"

Torres smiled at her. "I like it. We'll keep working on this and maybe you can teach me some tricks---and when the next talent show comes up---we'll surprise a few people." She picked up her own robe and put it on. Roaming the corridors in tights wasn't a good idea. 

Malista flinched at the word 'surprise'. "Well, I think I'll go take a shower and get something to eat."

"Promise me you'll eat something. And get some rest. And---"

Shadow covered his lips with her fingertip. "You're starting to nag again, Paris. You're my brother---not my mother!" She let her hand drop to her side.

He tried to smile. "Okay. But you don't need to go back to hiding in your quarters. And if you need company---"

"I know," she said gently, "and I promise that if I need anything, I'll tell you---one of you. Thank you. Now go have dinner!" After saving the program, she shooed them out the exit ahead of her.

As soon as she disappeared around the bend of the corridor, Tom took B'Elanna into his arms, clinging to her as if to a lifeline. She wrapped her arms around him and tilted her head back. She'd never seen him wear such a---bleak expression. "What is it, Tom?"

He shook his head, started to speak, then closed his mouth and shook his head again. He pulled her more tightly to him and rested his cheek upon the top of her head.

"I'm worried about her, too," Torres offered. "And Harry." 

They could hear voices approaching and knew the moment of privacy was over. Tom stepped back from the hug but kept one arm around her as they turned and started for the mess hall. It seemed as if he couldn't bear to let her get out of his reach. B'Elanna felt a tingle of apprehension at the base of her neck. She had a bad feeling about this. 

The situation was bad enough with Malista and Harry no longer being on speaking terms---but what if Tom let himself be drawn in? Could they actually stay friends with both Harry and Malista? What kind of emotional damage was this doing to Tom? Being forced to choose? Was that all that was bothering him? 

She got the feeling there was more to it than that. Something to do with her or with them. Damn it! Why wouldn't he tell her what was wrong? She needed to talk to someone about this. 

*****************

It had been three days. Those involved in the ship's betting pool were confused. The lack of definitive evidence---or failing that a reliable source of gossip ---as to the cause of the unforeseen Kim/Shadow breakup meant that the odds on reconciliation or total failure of the relationship were almost impossible to calculate. That didn't, however, stop them from trying.

Malista Shadow had three visitors on the second evening. Jenny and Megan Delaney and Susan Nicoletti came to call. They seemed subdued, as if visiting someone in mourning---which in a sense, they were. Malista invited them in, offered them refreshments, then waited for them to comment.

With a typical lack of tact, Jenny Delaney burst out with, "I just can't believe you broke up with Harry Kim after all the trouble we went to! We helped you land him!"

"He's not a fish," Shadow commented dryly. Her face was unreadable. She was very calm and in control. 

Jenny waved an impatient hand. "You know what I mean! What happened?"

"Jenny!" Sue chided. "I told you not to ask that. It's none of our business."

Shadow shook her head slightly. "It's all right, Susan. Let's sum it up by saying that Harry and I---we found we were mistaken about our feelings for each other. Let's leave it at that." 

Megan Delaney's mouth was ajar. "But you two seemed so---right together! You were such a cute couple!" Nicoletti elbowed her. 

Malista's mouth twisted in what could have been an attempt at a smile. "A couple of what?" It seemed to be an inside joke. Her friends didn't get it.

"Well, if you want to date someone else---"Jenny began.

"No! Thank you," Malista said quickly. "Jenny, I appreciate your---concern ---but I'm not interested."

"Give her some time," Sue suggested. She'd known it was a bad idea to let the Delaneys visit Shadow this soon, but there'd been no way to stop them without hurting their feelings. They considered Malista their friend. They were trying the best way they knew to help her. It just wasn't the sort of help Shadow could or would accept---at least not this soon.

Megan and Jenny exchanged glances. They got to their feet. "If we can help, let us know," they offered in unison. They often spoke in unison. It was some kind of side effect of being identical twins. 

Malista nodded, a slight smile twitching at her lips. "Thank you. I appreciate the offer. It's---comforting to have friends."

The twins looked touched. They didn't have many women friends. Only two---Malista Shadow and Susan Nicoletti. Other women merely tolerated them. They were much too attractive and flirtatious to be popular with other women who saw them as a threat. 

Sue shepherded them out of Malista's cabin. She stopped in the doorway. "Are you okay?" she asked with a direct look that demanded an honest answer.

"I will be," Shadow replied. "Do me a favor? Tell the rumor mill---it's not all Harry's fault. I---don't want him treated badly on my account."

Nicoletti's eyes narrowed. "Whether he deserves it or not?"

Shadow met her eyes with a blank look. "That's not what I said. Just tell them, please?"

"Okay. I'll put out the word. I don't know how much people will pay attention. People tend to make up their own minds---especially if they don't have the facts," Sue commented. "Take care."

Malista sighed and sank back into her chair, staring intently at nothing in particular. The last time she and Harry had---disagreed---at the beginning of their relationship, it had become common knowledge that he'd treated her badly. As a result, every woman aboard had taken out her anger on him. Malista didn't want a repeat of that. It was too disruptive to the functioning of the ship. 

After all, it wasn't Harry's fault that he was still in love with Libby. Malista had known going into the relationship that it probably wouldn't last. She'd tried to tell herself that this time---she wouldn't make any mistakes. She would be whatever Harry wanted her to be. Or she would try her best. 

She should have known she couldn't compete with Libby. Or at least, his memory of Libby. She was too---inadequate. Among other things. She was too tall. She was too shy. She had all kinds of emotional problems. She was inexperienced in the physical aspects of male/female relationships---except for having been a victim of rape---which had left her traumatized and afraid of physical intimacy.

Harry Kim was Starfleet. He was a genius in more than one area of interest. He was the Operations Officer with the responsibility for keeping all the ship's systems balanced and operating to top capacity. He'd proven himself to be a good officer and an invaluable asset to the ship's crew. He was a good man and had been a good friend to Tom Paris, when others hadn't given Tom a chance at all.

She was a Maquis. A farm girl. An uneducated farm girl---no, a self-educated farm girl from a colony world. He'd gone to the Academy, one of the Federation's toughest and most demanding schools. She was a competent technician, but no genius---at anything. She'd taught herself most of what she knew through home schooling or reading for enjoyment. He played classical music on the clarinet and gave concerts. She couldn't master playing scales on any instrument. She could sing---but she wasn't trained, and her tastes ran more to show tunes. They had nothing in common. 

Well, two things. They both liked Tom and B'Elanna. And they enjoyed kissing each other. The physical side of the relationship had been moving ahead slowly. She enjoyed sharing kisses and hugs, touching him. But certain touches triggered flashbacks---something she hadn't told Harry, but he'd seemed to sense it when she tensed. He'd tried to get her to talk about it---but she just couldn't. Talking about it---made it seem so real. She had hoped that with time, but now---Would she ever be able to let another man touch her? If another man would ever want to?

She still didn't understand exactly what had triggered Harry's outburst of jealousy. She must have done something, but she honestly couldn't think what it could be. She took that as a sign that she was even dumber than she'd thought. She didn't know what she might have done, but if Harry said she had---He was not the type to make things up. Maybe he---maybe it was a misunderstanding? 

No. Harry wouldn't have been that angry without reason. She'd known from the start that she didn't deserve a man like Harry. But he shouldn't have to suffer the censure of the others on the ship for correcting the mistake he'd made in getting involved with---someone like her. A total screw up. Everything she touched---how many more people were going to pay for getting close to her? Her three friends on Huldon III, Niko Dishon---

Not Harry Kim. Not if she could do anything to prevent it.

***************

The messhall was crowded. Gamma Shift was having dinner while Alpha Shift was having breakfast. Most of the tables were full or overcrowded. Harry Kim was sitting alone. No one approached to share his table. 

He was becoming resigned to the fact that he had once again become a pariah. He sipped his coffee and tried to pretend it didn't matter. That he hadn't noticed. It wasn't that difficult to pretend. He'd learned from the best. He'd watched Tom Paris do it a thousand times since coming aboard Voyager as an observer.

A sudden silence throughout the room caught his attention. He glanced up.

Malista Shadow, tray in hand, was standing at his side.

His good manners kicked in automatically. He got to his feet---then stood staring at her, not knowing what to expect. He couldn't get his mouth to open to begin an apology. 

"Harry." Her demeanor gave no hint to what she was thinking. She spoke quietly, for his ears alone. "I wanted to tell you---it's okay. I think I understand."

"Malista, I---" he began, stuttering to a stop as she shook her head. 

"I don't want anyone blaming you. I thought if I stopped to say hello, they'd get the message. And, by the way, please take my word for it, I'm not going to kill myself because of this---or for any other reason. Have a good day," she added casually, as if she hadn't just figuratively dropped a bomb on him. She strolled away and seated herself with Sue Nicoletti and a crowd from Engineering.

The buzz of conversation in the messhall increased audibly. Harry sank into his chair. His face was blank---because his mind was blank. He literally was beyond thought. 

But Malista was correct. The ship's gossips spread the story of the messhall meeting between the two of them all over the ship in less than an hour. The lack of overt animosity between the two fueled the discussion of who had broken up with whom and for what reason. 

The gossips and the betting pool were stumped for the first time. There were multiple theories---but no evidence or substantive rumors to account for the split. And the participants weren't helping. They weren't talking---to each other or anyone else. Neither Harry or Malista had commented to anyone on the incident or about each other. The lack of invective made it hard to assess blame and consequences. 

The betting pool saw a sudden slump in activity. After a few days, with no accusing scenes or temper tantrums from either party, the gossips moved on to juicier subjects. Such as Freddie Bristow's latest target: Diane Russell, ship's librarian. Bets began to be laid on her receptivity to his attentions, Crewman Aron Dalby's reaction, and on how long Freddie would be allowed to live---if he didn't stop being such a nuisance.

******************

Tom Paris had been increasingly---haunted was the best description B'Elanna could come up with---since Harry and Malista had gone their separate ways. Harry had been avoiding both of them while off duty. It was impossible to avoid them on duty, but it was possible to act professionally. They each went about their tasks, speaking to each other with polite formality when necessary. An objective observer would have thought they were merely acquaintances rather than the best of friends.

Tom had made an effort to talk to Harry in the messhall over lunch. Harry made an excuse and left the table before Tom could offer more than a greeting.

Tom didn't want to discuss his feelings about the situation with B'Elanna. She was becoming increasingly frustrated, but refrained from pushing him as she read desperation in his eyes. She didn't know what to do about it. She didn't know what caused him to suddenly study her pensively, almost despairingly, then suddenly snap out of it. The abrupt transitions left her feeling---inadequate. She didn't understand his moods, or what he might be thinking---all she knew was that he was unhappy. And that, in turn, made her unhappy.

She had to talk about it or burst. Harry Kim was an automaton these days. Otherwise she might have considered talking to him. He was her friend. He was Tom's friend and might be able to give her some insight---normally. But these weren't normal times. He and Harry weren't totally ignoring each other---but their easy rapport had been shattered. Each man carefully weighed his words when speaking to the other. And Harry had taken to avoiding Tom whenever possible so there was no chance to recapture their friendship. 

Chakotay. She had to talk to Chakotay. She slapped her commbadge as she strode out of Engineering at the end of her shift. "Torres to Chakotay."

"Chakotay here."

"Are you busy?"

"Not too busy. What do you need, B'Elanna?"

"I need to talk."

"Come to my cabin. These reports can wait."

"Let me change out of my uniform. Be there in fifteen minutes. Torres out."

Commander Chakotay looked at Kathryn Janeway who was sitting across the table from him. "Captain?"

Janeway smiled understandingly. "Commander, if you're going to have a chance to do something about the situation that is making my senior staff act like strangers---you can take all the time you want on these reports. I'm glad one of them decided to talk to you. As Counselor, or friend."

"I hope I can help."

Janeway gathered her datapadds and stood. Chakotay walked her to the door. "Let me know if I can help you. It's getting to the point, I'm afraid to look at Tom or Harry. I don't know what's going on---but I get the feeling the situation is like a rubber band that's being stretched tighter every day---"

"And you don't want to be in the vicinity when it snaps?" Chakotay said, amused by her analogy and its accuracy. The tension of the bridge had been almost unbearable---all the more so, because there was nothing out of line that could be acted upon. 

Janeway nodded. "Maybe we can finish these reports later." She left with one last encouraging smile.

*****************

Tom couldn't help feeling a sense of relief when B'Elanna canceled their standing dinner date. She'd said she had some reports to go over with Chakotay. Tom didn't want to admit it, but he needed some time away from her. 

When he was with her, he could feel himself trying to cling to her---as if by holding onto her, he could keep her from slipping away from him. He knew she would hate feeling---smothered. So he fought his urge to cling---but that just reinforced his need to be reassured that she still---wanted him.

Since Harry and Malista had broken up, his mind continually returned to a single train of thought: If Harry can't handle a relationship, how can *I*? Harry was a stable personality. He was straightforward emotionally. Intelligent. Normal. So normal as to border on weird in Tom's opinion.

Next to Harry, Tom was practically a basket case. His childhood had been unhappy---with a pushy, perfectionist father who'd left him feeling inadequate and unsure of his self-worth and a passive mother who'd tried to please her husband, at the expense of her children. 

He was an ex-con with the direct responsibility for three deaths on his conscience. Something that still haunted him from time to time. Tom wasn't sure he truly understood what love was or how it was supposed to work. How could B'Elanna Torres be interested in a long-term relationship with him? He wasn't---worthy of her. 

He was sure Chakotay must have taken an opportunity to point that out to her. The first officer was her mentor. They had been through a lot together in the Maquis. He'd supported and encouraged B'Elanna and put her forward as a candidate for the position of Chief Engineer of Voyager. 

Tom wondered if B'Elanna secretly wished that he was more like Chakotay. The first officer was steady, reliable, brave, honest, and had many other good qualities that Tom found lacking in himself. Tom hoped and prayed that nothing ever forced Torres to choose between her relationship with him and her friendship with the Commander. Tom was nearly positive she'd choose Chakotay. 

She was so---beautiful, so talented, so intelligent, so spirited---Why would she settle for him? 

Because she was physically attracted to him? 

Tom knew very well that physical attraction was often fleeting---it burned itself out! Others had burned out on him---before he burned out on them. Suzy Crabtree came to mind. Rickie---or at least the women she composited. Unless there were other common shared interests, beliefs, goals---did he and B'Elanna have any of those? 

Was it really love B'Elanna felt for him? A love that would last? Or was it simply lust? Was she looking for fun and physical pleasure or something more? How could he tell? Should he risk asking her---risk telling her---No. He couldn't bring himself to say---even think the words.

His thoughts were distressing. He settled onto his recliner and tried to read. He couldn't concentrate. His mind kept wandering in circles back to questioning his relationship with B'Elanna Torres. Could it last? Would it? 

He needed to do something. Something physical. His hand started for his commbadge. Automatically, he started to signal Harry Kim. He halted as his mind caught up with reality. He couldn't talk to Harry about this. Harry didn't want to talk to him anyway. The ensign had made that abundantly clear with his behavior. Paris slapped his commbadge. "Lieutenant Paris to Crewman Shadow." 

"Yes, Lieutenant?"

"Malista, where are you?"

"I'm on my way to exercise. You want to join me?"

"Yes. I'll be right there. Paris out."

Tom dressed in the royal blue tights he'd replicated for himself. If he was going to learn to fly on a trapeze, he would look the part and be properly attired. Of course, he had opted not to apply spangles and sparkles to his costume. That would be silly. He slipped his robe on, snagged a towel, and started for the holodeck.

********************

Chakotay had rearranged his furniture to allow a larger clear space for B'Elanna to use in pacing. When she was upset, she tended to move restlessly, often recklessly. He had also taken the precaution of moving all his breakable decorations into the sleeping section of his cabin. She occasionally liked to throw things, too.

The door signal sounded. "Come."

She didn't charge into the room. That was a bad sign. She seemed hesitant. She seated herself on the chair, opposite his position on the couch. "Chakotay," she said, as a greeting.

"B'Elanna." He waited. 

She ran her hands up and down the chair arms, rocking back and forth in the seat. She bit her lower lip and watched him.

He tilted his head.

She scowled at him.

"I thought you wanted to talk."

"I don't know how to start," she snapped. 

"Start at the beginning," he suggested.

She jumped up and began pacing. "Don't give me platitudes! You probably can guess what I want to talk about anyway!"

"I'm not in the mood for guessing games. Why don't you just tell me?" His head swung back and forth as he followed her movements.

She stopped. "It's about---Tom." She focused a glare on him. "Well, aren't you going to say 'I told you so'? You said our relationship wouldn't work!"

"When did I say that?" Chakotay asked, one eyebrow up.

"You said---what did you say then?" she demanded. She'd carried on so many arguments in her head, she couldn't be sure who had said what to whom. Or if she'd been talking to herself.

"I said that there was no point in pursuing the relationship if you were afraid and jealous. Is that the problem?"

"Yes! No! Not exactly," she groaned. She flopped back into the chair. She snapped forward and leaned toward him, resting her elbows on her thighs as she gazed at him intently. "Chakotay, tell me---give me an honest opinion---how Klingon am I?"

Her friend wasn't sure where that had come from. "What do you mean?"

Instead of answering, she threw another question at him. "Do you think Tom is a coward? Honestly? Tell me the truth. I need to know."

"A coward?" Though surprised, the first officer took his time to think carefully before answering. He needed to organize his thoughts. This wasn't what he'd expected her to talk about. "No. I don't. Why do you ask?"

She tore her fingers through her hair and pulled on it in exasperation. "I'm just so confused! Tom won't open up. I can't tell what he's thinking."

"His defenses have been in place for a long time, B'Elanna. He was a loner for some time before coming to Voyager."

"Malista says Tom is afraid to talk about his feelings, about his past--- because he's afraid he won't live up to my expectations!" she exploded. "How can I convince him that he shouldn't be afraid?"

"You can't," Chakotay stated flatly. "No one can convince someone else that his fears aren't valid. Especially not in these circumstances."

"What circumstances?"

"Let's go back to your other question. How Klingon are you? If Tom doesn't trust that you'll understand his past, your Klingon heritage may have some bearing. Everyone knows that Klingons value honor and fighting spirit above everything else. If you're looking for the Klingon ideal in a mate---Tom Paris is not it," Chakotay concluded.

"What? Why?"

"B'Elanna, you can lie to yourself if you want---but that won't solve the problem. Think about it for a minute. What attracted you to Tom in the first place?"

"He's handsome," she stated.

"His looks? Is that all?" Chakotay prodded.

"No!" she growled. "Of course not. I appreciated his sense of humor. He was Harry's friend---so I wound up spending time with him and I found out he was---clever ---more than just a pretty face. Intelligent---when he wants to be. And he actually is as good a pilot as he thinks he is. He pretends to be callous, but he's very gentle. Protective---of Harry. Of Malista and other people---even of me. He always offers to help when he thinks---" She seemed to be following her own train of thought.

"What would your mother say if you brought Tom home with you and introduced him as your---husband? What would her opinion of him be?" Chakotay waited as she thought over her answer.

"She'd hate him," Torres blurted. "At first sight!"

"Why?"

"He's not---fierce. He's always so unruffled, so easy-going. She'd mistake that for softness or weakness. He doesn't like fighting." 

"Anything else?"

"He never loses his temper. That worries me. If he doesn't get angry, to me that means he doesn't feel things deeply---strongly."

"He gets angry, B'Elanna, he's just not as *noisy* about it as you are! Not everyone shouts and throws things. You know that. Some people get quieter---and are the more deadly for it. I get the feeling Tom may fall into that category. What else would your mother say?"

B'Elanna's eyes dropped to the floor. "He was a traitor to the Federation ---and a traitor to the Maquis."

"Lacking a sense of honor altogether?" Chakotay determinedly kept his tone neutral.

She jumped to her feet, eyes flashing. "He has a sense of honor."

"Really?"

She glowered at him. "What are you getting at?"

"The things you just said about him?" She nodded. "That's the reaction he may think he'll get from you. If you're more Klingon, than human."

She sank back into the chair.

"Do you agree with your mother's assessment?"

"No! I know Tom. He's not---weak. He's not a coward. He may not be a Klingon's idea of a warrior---but he is a fighter. If he wasn't he wouldn't have survived--- " She decided not to finish that thought. "It's just that he---doesn't react the way a Klingon would. He's not a Klingon. He's human," she murmured, half talking to herself. 

Chakotay nodded. "Exactly. Tom made mistakes in the past, but he's learned from them and grown as a result. He's not a coward. A coward wouldn't volunteer for suicide missions. More than once. He risked death to save my life on the Ocampa homeworld. He saved your life."

Torres remembered. It was when she'd been taken prisoner by the robotic race and forced to build a prototype. Tom had volunteered to take a shuttlecraft and flown in the line of fire of the two battling starships in order to rescue her. "When we were prisoners of the Vidiians, he stood between them and me--- encouraged me when I was at the lowest point of my life. He risked his life to expose Michael Jonas as a traitor. He did the same thing when he took the shuttlecraft and went after the Talaxians. He saved the whole crew from being exiled on that planet."

"I wouldn't go that far. He did have help from the Doctor and Mr. Suder," Chakotay corrected. "But I wouldn't call him a coward. He'll fight---when he has to---but that's his last resort, not his first choice. He prefers to use his wits to avoid trouble. Do you start a fight when faced with overwhelming odds?"

"Not unless you're stupid---or suicidal---or Klingon," she added ruefully. "But what does that have to do with Tom?" 

"Most of his life Tom hasn't fit in and he's been outnumbered---at the Academy, in prison. Here. Think about it, B'Elanna. What would you have done if the whole crew of Voyager had despised you when you came aboard? The Maquis came to this ship as a group. We had friends to give us support as we settled in and became one crew. Who did Tom have?" Chakotay had been spending some time giving serious thought and analysis to Tom Paris---ever since B'Elanna Torres had begun to show an interest in the pilot.

"He had Harry." Torres frowned. "And Captain Janeway. I don't think I could have fit in---I would have punched out the first person who looked at me funny." She began to pace again.

"That would win friends and influence people," Chakotay commented wryly. "You couldn't fight the whole crew---any more than Tom could. So, if you can't beat them? And they won't let you join them?"

She stopped her restless movements and faced Chakotay. The light dawned as she suddenly saw things from Tom's point of view. "Oh. Direct confrontation ---wouldn't accomplish anything. So you pretend you don't need anyone, but you keep being friendly as if the hostility doesn't bother you. And you entertain people with your sense of humor---until they begin to like you or at least tolerate you in spite of the rumors they've heard about you. No wonder he doesn't talk about anything important. Most people never took what he said seriously. He won them over with his actions."

"So if no one believes what you say, or no one wants to hear the truth because they already know a version of it that contents them---why bother to speak about it at all?"

"But I'm not just anyone! I'm the woman he wants to---get serious about!"

"You believe that?" Chakotay raised one eyebrow.

"Yes!" she hissed emphatically, pushing her face right into his. "He does care about me. I'm not just another notch on his bedpost. He isn't just curious about the sexual appetites of Klingon women!"

Chakotay winced. He knew that was a sore point with her. He'd lost count of the number of men---and a few women---who propositioned Torres, purely out of sexual curiosity. 

He knew---because he'd had to pick them up off the floor after B'Elanna had expressed her lack of interest with her fists or feet. Thankfully, she'd eventually learned to turn down any offers without resorting to physical violence. He'd also put a stop to the propositions by letting his disapproval be known among the Maquis. His protective attitude had led many people to misinterpret his own relationship with Torres, but he'd ignored the gossip, knowing very well that there was nothing he could do to put a stop to it. He was aware that B'Elanna had developed something of a crush on him for a while, but she'd gotten over it.

The beginning of the end of the crush had been when the Vidiians had split her into her human and Klingon halves---and Tom Paris had been there to comfort and assist her. She never had confided in him very much about that experience---just an occasional comment on how Paris had helped her, tried to help Durst. But since that time the relationship between the first officer and chief engineer had been purely based on friendship and a shared past history.

Chakotay gave her a conciliatory smile. "You've made progress since the last time we talked. Now, at least you're sure he does care about you. How do you feel about him?"

She threw herself back into the chair for the fourth time. "Oh, Chakotay," she sighed. "He's so---" She hesitated as she tried to think of the best way of describing him. Her whole face lit up. "He makes me feel more at ease with myself. And when he kisses me---" She sighed again, this time with a reminiscent smile. She hugged herself, rubbing her hands up and down her arms.

"I take it that's positive?" His dimple peeked out as he tried to hide his amusement at her unexpected attack of speechlessness.

She flashed a grin at him. "He makes me feel---beautiful. Special. Warm. Accepted. I've never felt like this before in my entire life---But I don't know if I make him feel the same way. I know I don't intimidate him. He's not afraid of my temper. But he hides from me. I want to know how he feels. How can I get him to open up?"

Chakotay considered that for a moment. "Have you thought of setting the example?"

"What?" 

"If you want him to open up and share his feelings with you, maybe you should share your feelings with him first."

"I couldn't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because what if---what if he didn't like what he heard?"

Chakotay frowned at her. "Excuse me, isn't that what you said he's afraid of? That you won't like what you hear?"

"Yes, but that's different," she protested, dismayed to hear a whining note entering her voice.

"Why? B'Elanna, you want him to take all the risks emotionally? He's supposed to open up to you---while you protect yourself?" 

"No! That's not it---" she protested, but stopped herself. "Yes, it is. That's exactly it. So you think if I open up to him, he'll feel---he'll trust me enough to open up to me, too?"

"There are no guarantees. But I'm sure it would help."

She nodded thoughtfully and subsided into silence.

A few minutes passed. Chakotay finally interrupted her train of thought. "B'Elanna, while you're here, can I ask you a question?"

She came back from the far place to which she'd traveled mentally. "Sure." Her brown eyes focused on him.

"What happened with Harry and Malista?" 

She eyed him with amusement. "Let's see, that makes thirty-three."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You're the thirty-third person to ask me that question. Today," she added. "Why do you want to know? As Malista's counselor? Or as First Officer?"

"Either or both. The situation is beginning to affect ship's morale. I'm surprised Neelix---"

Torres held up a hand. "Too late. Neelix already tried his hand at morale boosting."

Chakotay passed a hand over his face, momentarily hiding his eyes. "Oh, no. Do I want to hear this?"

"No---o---o," she drawled, sprawling in the chair and getting comfortable. "But you'll probably hear about it soon. So I might as well tell you. Neelix sat down with Harry at lunch today and tried to get him to talk about it."

"And what was Harry's reaction?"

"Let's put it this way, what would your reaction be if Neelix offered to play matchmaker for you and the Captain?" She hid a smile behind her hand at the curt, intimidating look the first officer sent sizzling across the room. "Yeah. That's what I thought. Harry held onto his temper by a micron, ordered Neelix to leave him alone, and stalked out of the mess hall. Kes talked Neelix out of approaching Malista. For which we should all be grateful. She wouldn't get mad. She'd probably burst into tears. Which would upset Tom. And then I'd have to smack Neelix."

Chakotay decided to ignore her insolence and get back on the subject. "But what did Harry and Malista fight about? What caused the split?"

B'Elanna shrugged. "I'm not sure. They aren't talking---to anyone. Malista might talk to Tom about it eventually, but she even told him to stay out of it. She doesn't want this to---interfere in our friendship with Harry. She wants the impossible. Harry won't talk to Tom or anyone else about what happened. It's awkward just being in the same room with him. He's shut us out. That hurt Tom terribly, and then it made him angry."

"You don't have a clue?"

"No. The only thing I can think of---is jealousy. She'd mentioned that Harry had been acting funny and watching her all the time. Then Freddie Bristow made a pass at her. But Harry knew she hadn't invited that. How could he possibly be jealous? It doesn't make any sense. She never even knew anyone else existed---not once she had Harry."

Chakotay frowned. "Jealousy isn't rational. It stems from insecurity. There doesn't have to be a real basis for its existence."

"How could Harry possibly feel insecure? She was always hanging on his every word and adoring him with her eyes! She practically climbed in his pocket at Sandrine's that night. He'd have to be blind and stupid not to realize she cared about him!" Torres was exasperated with both her friends. 

"Maybe she never told him. Actions can tell you a lot---but when it comes right down to it---most people need to hear the words," Chakotay stated quietly.

"Yeah. Well, thanks, Chakotay. I'll see you later." She bounced to her feet and charged out the door in her typical impetuous manner, giving him no time to ask more questions.

Chakotay thought for a moment then slapped his commbadge. "Chakotay to Captain Janeway."

"Janeway here."

"Captain, I've finished my session with Torres. If you'd like to finish those reports---"

"I'll be right there."

********************

Tom landed flat on his back in the center of the net for the fifth time in twenty minutes. The fun had gone out of falling---somewhere around the third time. 

"What did I do wrong now?" he yelped plaintively.

Hanging upside down by the knees from the trapeze, Malista shook with laughter. "You aren't concentrating, Tom! You have to pay attention. I told you it's all in the timing!"

"Hey! Why don't you let me be the catcher?"

"Because *I* don't want to fall!"

"What a lousy thing to say!" he retorted. "True---but totally unnecessary to say out loud. Come down here! I think half an hour is enough of a workout. How's your shoulder?"

"It's fine." She pulled herself up to sit on the trapeze and peered down at him. "Well, if you want me to come down, you have to get out of the net." 

"Why? There's plenty of room." He paused and studied his surroundings. "Is it my imagination, or did this net grow since last time we were here?"

"No, it's bigger. About fifty percent bigger. But you still have to move, because if I jump down, I'll either squash you or you'll probably bounce out! You think you can land on your feet instead of your head?"

"I'm going, I'm going," he grumbled, rolling to the edge of the net and dismounting. He waited till she'd bounced down and helped her off the edge. He got her robe and held it as she put it on. He slipped his own robe on and belted it. The perspiration raised by exertion was cooling on his body and it would be easy to catch a chill. They sat down on a bench near the ringside. 

"Why is the net bigger?" he asked, squinting as he stared at it.

Malista shrugged. "I thought you made it bigger---because you keep falling. If you didn't---Oh! B'Elanna must have made it bigger."

"Why would she do that?" Paris inquired, frowning.

Shadow socked his arm. "Because *you* keep falling, Tom. She's being protective. And surprisingly diplomatic." 

"Oh," he said, comprehension dawning. There was a pause. "So how are you doing?" 

"Fine. How are you?"

"Fine."

There was a momentary silence.

"Now that we've finished lying to each other, how are you really?" Tom asked, studying her profile.

She pushed the sawdust with her left big toe, forming little piles on the floor in front of them. "I've been better," she finally replied, a sob shaking her voice.

He slipped his arm around her and pulled her head down to his shoulder. "Computer, save and end program. Run program Paris 4, subroutine 6." 

The holodeck shimmered around them. The circus tent disappeared and was replaced by Lake Como. It was a special place for them---the place where they'd first forged the bonds of their friendship. It was sunset and Tom and Malista were seated on the bench next to the picnic table with a view of the lake before them. It was very peaceful.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Tom asked, careful not to sound insistent.

"Have you talked to Harry?"

"Don't answer a question with a question," he instructed.

"Why not? You do it all the time."

"I'm your older brother. You're supposed to do as I say---not as I do," Tom replied virtuously.

"Yeah, right," she replied in a watery voice. She left her head on his shoulder as if she derived some comfort from his touch. "But have you talked to Harry? As a friend?"

"No."

"Oh, Tom." She tilted her face to look at him. "He's your best friend. I told you I didn't want---"

"It's not your fault. I tried to talk to him---once. I haven't chased him down because I don't know what to say. He's been avoiding me anyway. He doesn't want to talk to me. Do you want to talk about it?"

"You aren't going to let go of this, are you?"

Tom waved an admonishing finger at her. "See, you did it again!"

"Did what?"

"Answered a question with a question. No. I'm not going to let it go. Talk to me." Her head rested on his shoulder, his head rested atop hers, their arms around each other, and they watched the sunset for a few minutes. "Computer, put a privacy lock on this holodeck."

"Acknowledged. Privacy lock is in place."

"Now, Sis. What happened?"

"It's funny. I've thought about it. I'm still not sure," she replied. "I thought everything was---fine. Then we got back to my quarters and he---no, that's not true. He'd been acting funny for days. Not himself. But if I asked him what was wrong, he said 'Nothing'. At Sandrine's that night---he was---Oh, I don't know. Did he seem all right to you?"

"Well," Paris said hesitantly. "Before we came to meet you, he was upset about the incident with Freddie Bristow."

"I hadn't even told him about---"

"He saw it. He went to the resort and saw Freddie rubbing oil on your back," Paris explained.

"Oh. But why---"

"He left as soon as he saw you two together."

"So he didn't see me knock Freddie down and tell him to keep his hands off of me?"

"Did you do that?" Tom said, sounding delighted. "I wish I could have seen that. How did Freddie take it?"

"With his ego, he barely noticed," Malista muttered. "You just wish I'd decked him because he went after B'Elanna."

"True." He didn't sound the least bit apologetic. 

"So Harry didn't know if I'd invited Freddie's attention? Was that why---but when you got to Sandrine's I told everybody what happened. Didn't he believe me?"  
she asked plaintively.

"He probably wanted to. Maybe he wanted to believe it so much he couldn't."

She blinked at him curiously.

He waved a hand to dismiss it. "It's a guy thing. So is that what the fight was about? Freddie Bristow?" Paris inquired.

"No. I told you---I'm not even sure. It seemed to just---flare up. He didn't want to---He didn't want me to kiss him. I thought he liked kissing me. He seemed to before. He said he wanted to talk. Then he started ---ranting about other men---men plural---not just Freddie---and the accident---"

"The accident? Was he still blaming himself?" 

"No. As a matter of fact," she said then stopped, reconsidering the wisdom of telling Tom the whole truth.

"What?"

"No, you'll get mad." She looked away from him.

"Come on."

"No."

"Malista?" he drawled coaxingly.

"Promise not to get mad?"

Tom snorted. "Too late. I'm already mad at him. For hurting you. And for shutting me out."

"Tom, it's not all his fault. It takes two to make a fight, you know."

"Tell me what he said about the accident."

She sighed and sat upright, pulling away from his encircling arm. She stood and strolled down to the water's edge. Paris followed her. "He asked me---if I was trying to get myself killed. He thought maybe it wasn't an accident at all---that it might have been a---another suicide attempt."

"What?" Paris exploded. 

She winced at his loudness and laid a hand on his arm. "Tom. Calm down."

"How could he think that---much less say it?! Has he lost his mind? What other pearls of stupidity did he have to offer?"

"Tom, I'm not going to tell you anything until you calm down. And promise not to say anything to anyone else about this---especially not Harry!" Malista tugged on his forearm and gazed up at him insistently through tear-drenched dark green eyes.

Paris took hold of his emotions and reined them in. She didn't need him to fight her battles for her. Not right now. She needed him to listen. So he would listen and keep quiet---if it choked him. "Okay. I'm sorry. What else did he say?"

"There was something about Freddie. I think he was still jealous. And when I said Freddie wasn't important---he asked about---other men." She paused to see if another outburst was forthcoming. When Tom clenched his jaw silently, she went on. "Then he said I was using him---to get experience sexually---because he was---safe? And he said Libby never tried to make him jealous---and I told him to get out!" She lost her battle to suppress her tears. They rolled freely down her cheeks. 

Tom's arms came around her and pressed her cheek against his shoulder as she wept. He shook his head. "I can't believe it. That doesn't sound like Harry."

"That's what I thought," Malista choked. "He was acting like a totally different person. I didn't know what to do---I didn't know what to say. I was so angry I couldn't talk. I couldn't find the words---I must have done something. I'm just too stupid to know what I did that made Harry so---so crazy."

Tom seized her forearms and gave her a little shake. "Stop that. You're not stupid! Don't take the blame for this."

"Who should I blame? Harry? He's the normal one, remember? I must have done something. How did I make him crazy?"

"I think he did it to himself," Tom said, uncertainly.

"Yeah, right." She drew a tissue from the pocket of her robe, mopped her face and blew her nose. "That's likely."

"Well, what now?" Tom took her hand and led her back to the bench.

"Nothing. It's over. Maybe in time---things will settle down and we can be polite to each other---be friendly again. Right now---I just can't. It hurts so much to see him. I can't even say hello."

Tom frowned. "And what are you going to do? Date someone else?"

She shook her head tiredly. "I'm not interested. Not now. Maybe not ever. I don't seem to have very good luck with relationships. I'm not exactly a good luck charm, you know."

That sounded very familiar---unfortunately. "Well, how about right this minute? You want to think up some names to call Harry? I'll help get you started. We can do it alphabetically."

She chuckled, teetering on the verge of tears. "Oh? For example?"

"A---Aldebaran serpent, B---Belzoidian flea, C---Caldorian eel, D---Denebian slime devil---"

"Tom. Stop. I don't want to call him names."

"It might make you feel better."

"I don't think so. I'd probably just make you mad saying things like D---Dark Angel. That's how I used to think of him---not that I ever told him that. I thought it would embarrass him." She rubbed her cheek against his shoulder, squeezed his hand, and sighed. "Why couldn't I have fallen for you? Lord knows, you're the handsomest man I've ever seen. And there are a lot of women on this ship that are interested in you! You could have a harem---if any of them was willing to share."

"Good looks are highly overrated," he replied shortly. "Do you have any idea how many fights I've gotten into---that started with some wise guy calling me 'pretty boy' or something similar? It began in kindergarten and continued before, during, and after prison," Tom said with a hint of bitterness. 

"Sorry. I always thought it must be nice to be really attractive. I guess there are drawbacks."

"What? What's that supposed to mean? You're beautiful!"

She sniffed her disbelief. "Yeah, sure."

"You are! Hey, Sis, would I lie to you?"

She tilted her head at him skeptically. "Tom, I've always known I was plain looking---just average. You look like a prince in a fairy tale."

"You're shortchanging yourself. You're very pretty. And I'm considered something of an expert on the subject."

She shrugged.

"You're as bad as B'Elanna about accepting a compliment gracefully!" he scoffed.

She frowned thoughtfully. "How do you tell the difference between a physical attraction---and love?"

"You picked me to answer that one? I have no idea. I've had problems with that question my whole life. Sometimes I wonder if I wouldn't have been better off if I looked more like my dad's family, instead of my mom's. The Parises, as a rule, are tall, impressive, dignified---but not---'pretty'---just average looking," he said contemptuously. 

She shrugged. "I used to think if you were beautiful enough, people would always try to make you happy. Too many fairy tales, I guess."

"I've heard that it's better to have something like a good character to keep people with you when your looks are gone," he remarked sardonically. 

"You do have a good character. You're kind, and supportive, and compassionate. A great big brother and a genuinely nice guy. Even though you try to hide it. You're a wonderful human being. It's just that the first thing people notice about you is that you're good-looking. Why *didn't* I fall in love with you?" she repeated, frowning up at him in puzzlement.

"An appalling lack of good taste?" he asked, flashing a grin at her.

She smiled back then suddenly started to giggle. He stared at her. "Oh, Tom," she crowed delightedly. "I just figured it out. I know why you've always looked so familiar to me!"

"Why? We never met before Voyager." He was frowning slightly. "Did we?"

"No. But I used to have a picture on the wall of my bedroom when I was a little girl---"

"If you say it was the frog prince, I may slug you, Sis!" he threatened, shaking a fist at her.

"No. It was a picture of a little girl asleep in her room. Sitting on the edge of her bed, watching over her with a big sword, was her guardian angel. That's who you look like!"

He looked at her skeptically. "Angelic? Me? I think I can almost see Harry as the angelic type but---this angel looked like me?"

She giggled again. "Well," she drawled. "It would look exactly like you---if you were built like George Natwick! He was a very brawny guardian angel! You're my bright angel! Even though you aren't as muscular."

Paris tried hard to look offended.

"My oldest brother Stephanos gave me that picture. He said I was going to need a tough guardian angel." Her smile suddenly dropped away. "I guess he was right. But that may be the reason why I didn't think of you---romantically. I think I needed you as a brother. And you needed me as a sister. Besides, B'Elanna already had your heart by the time we met."

"Yeah. Anyway, the two of us are so screwed up---it would be like two people with only one leg each trying to walk normally by leaning on each other. Two cripples trying to make one whole person." Tom was serious.

"You aren't as abnormal as I am," she stated flatly.

"What? Is this a contest? You want to compare flaws?"

She put her free hand around his waist and leaned into him, offering comfort. " So what's wrong with you and B'Elanna, my dear older brother?"

"Nothing."

She made a scoffing sound.

"No, really. It's just---I need to talk to her about a few things and---I don't know where to start," he said hesitantly. "Or how much I should tell her."

The comm system chirped. "Torres to Paris."

"Go ahead."

"Tom, can I come in the holodeck or is this a bad time?" She must have found herself locked out by the privacy lock and she hadn't wanted to override it without an invitation. 

"Come in," Malista answered, smiling up at Tom. 

"Computer, lift privacy lock for Lieutenant Torres," Tom said.

The arch appeared and B'Elanna strode in, taking in the atmosphere and the couple on the bench. It was apparent that Malista had been crying. "Are you sure I'm not intruding?" she asked, hesitating.

"No. Of course not," Shadow replied, sparing a weak smile for her friend. "Tom and I were talking. Come join him for the sunset. He's done a great job programming it."

B'Elanna eyed their attire. "I assume you started off at the circus and moved on to this program."

"Yes. She still won't let me be the catcher," Tom said, putting a hint of a pout into his voice. To his surprise, B'Elanna comforted him with a kiss on the forehead. He flashed a pleased smile at her. This was a first. Usually she didn't like public displays of affection and if there were any, he initiated them. 

"Maybe you can be the catcher when you grow up," Torres offered with false sympathy. She'd noticed that her brief kiss had rated a Number Eight Smile. She'd have to do that more often. If he enjoyed being kissed in front of others, she could learn to accommodate him.

Malista giggled. "I've got to go. I might let you be the catcher next time. You're too heavy for me anyway." As she stood up, Tom swatted her behind in a brotherly gesture of reprimand and affection. 

"Don't rush off on my account," Torres said. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

"No, it's okay. We'd finished our talk. I want to get a shower and get to Sandrine's."

"You're going to Sandrine's?" Tom asked.

"It's about time, don't you think? You're the one who forbade me to hide in my quarters as a problem-solving technique. Besides, I want to talk to George Natwick about something. Is Sandrine's public enough, B'Elanna?" 

Torres nodded. "I think so. Just keep your eyes on his hands at all times," she cautioned, only half-joking.

"Whoa! Wait a second! Sis, if you start dating George Natwick, I'll disown you! That muscle-bound nitwit---"

Malista stuck her tongue out at him. "You can't disown me. Remember? It's in the fine print---no returns, refunds, or exchanges. You're stuck with me as a sister."

Torres sat down next to Tom on the bench, thrilled as his hand sought hers instinctively. That reflexive seeking of her touch was somehow reassuring. It spoke of his feelings for her more loudly than the silence that troubled her. 

"Maybe we'll see you at Sandrine's in a little while," Tom suggested.

Malista frowned at him. "Only if you promise to behave. Oh, and Tom, when I said you couldn't tell anyone---I didn't mean B'Elanna. You can tell her if you like. Maybe she can help us figure it out. See you later."

"You can tell me what?" Torres asked as they watched the arch disappear behind Malista Shadow. "Help you figure what out?"

"Harry Kim," Tom replied with a heavy sigh. He lifted her hand and rubbed it against his cheek as if seeking comfort.

********************


	4. Chapter 4

Harry Kim was sitting at the bar in Sandrine's nursing a beer. He'd parked himself on a corner bar stool so it would be less obvious that he was there alone. Looking at the four walls of his cabin had become so oppressive, he couldn't stand it any more. He had to get out of there and he had nowhere else to go. He was trying his best to be invisible and succeeding fairly well just by sitting quietly in an out of the way spot, not calling attention to himself.

Since Malista had approached him in the messhall, the tide of public opinion had swung back in his favor. At least, at this point, he wasn't being cast as the villain who'd broken her heart. Other crewmembers had resumed speaking to him. Except for Tom and B'Elanna who hadn't had the opportunity. Yet.

Harry almost choked on his beer when Malista Shadow strolled in. She was wearing a tightly fitting emerald green jumpsuit. Her shoulder-length hair was swept up, braided and wrapped around her head and she wore a coronet of blue and white flowers like a crown. She didn't seem to notice the stares of appreciation she received from the men present. She was looking for someone in particular. 

Jenny and Megan Delaney waved her over to their table. They were sitting with Paul Bloorden and Trent Salaka. 

Malista didn't join them, but she did stand there for a moment and talk to them, looking perfectly at ease though surrounded by a crowd. She glanced around the room and her eyes lit on Ensign George Natwick who was sitting alone at a table in the corner opposite and the farthest distance from the bar. Malista went over to his table.

Harry couldn't believe his eyes---but he couldn't tear them away from the unlikely pairing either. She had a date at Sandrine's---with George Natwick!? 

Malista asked George if she could join him. His eyebrows went up. He belatedly got to his feet and held out the chair for her. "You want something to drink?" he asked, waving a hand at the holographic waitress. 

Malista smiled. "A beer would be nice. Thank you."

While waiting for her drink to be delivered, Natwick's eyes roamed appreciatively over her body. "You look good tonight," he said.

'Trust George to be direct,' Malista thought, sitting stiffly in her chair, trying to hide her discomfort. "Thank you, George. I wanted to ask you something."

"Sure." The waitress set her beer down in front of her. "What do you want to know?"

She placed her hands flat on the table and pondered how to say it. 

Natwick's cynical eyes slid toward the bar. "You trying to make Kim jealous again?" 

"What?" She froze. "Is he here?" Her eyes widened like an Andorian antelope caught in the targeting light of a phaser rifle. She didn't turn to look for Harry.

"Okay," Natwick said with a smug look that turned calculating. "So that's not it. You're not trying to make him jealous. Did you want me to beat him up for you?" He held up his arm and flexed his right bicep---it was an impressive sight. 

She blinked appreciatively. "No." 

He was dressed in his customary off-duty attire---sweat pants and a thin tank top that did nothing to disguise the large, well-defined, muscular build that he was so proud of. He had reason to be proud. He was built on a grand scale--- and many admiring eyes followed his every movement as if he were a piece of living sculpture.

"You wouldn't be the first woman to ask me for a favor like that," he commented dryly.

"I wouldn't use you like that," she protested softly, stretching a hand across the table to touch the hand next to his glass.

He seemed surprised and pleased by her response. "Maybe I should stop guessing and let you tell me what you wanted to ask."

She drew her hand back and grasped her beer mug with both hands. She took a sip, then cleared her throat. "Actually, it was B'Elanna's idea that you would be the one to ask."

She'd surprised him again. He looked half puzzled and half suspicious. "Yeah? I didn't think she liked me."

Malista wasn't going to touch that one. "She respects you as a professional." That much was the truth. "We were talking about anger and how to use it."

He nodded. She took it as encouragement to go on.

"Any way, I was asking her how you're supposed to---fight---to defend yourself without losing control of your temper." She waited for him to respond.

"Is that why you were never aggressive in the self defense class?" he asked. "You were afraid of getting out of control?"

She cleared her throat again and fiddled with her mug. "Yes. I don't know how much you know about my---my past---" she began, dismayed when her eyes began to fill with tears. She couldn't cry---not here! Not with Harry thirty feet away! And not in front of George Natwick! She blinked rapidly and paused, striving for control. Tears had come far too easily in the last few days. She'd cried more in the last month, than she had in the five years preceding it.

George reached across the table and took her hand in his, squeezing it reassuringly. His brown eyes were amazingly understanding. "You don't have to tell me, Malista. I know."

"You do?" Shock drove the tears away. 

"Sure. I always check into my students' backgrounds when I start a class. It helps avoid problems."

Her lips tremble as she smiled. "So you knew why---"

"I knew why. I'd hoped that taking my class would help you deal with it." He was speaking now as a professional. "You did manage to learn some aggressive techniques. I know from personal experience." He released her hand and sat back in his chair, rubbing his stomach.

She flinched. It was a reminder that she'd struck her instructor in the midsection with a pipe, knocking the wind out of him and dumping him on the floor. "I'm sorry about that, George," she said breathlessly, apologizing for the first time since the incident.

He grinned at her impudently. "No, you're not."

She grinned back at him, eyes twinkling. "No, I'm not," she agreed impishly. "You deserved it."

"Maybe," he agreed noncommittally. There might have been a spark of admiration in his eyes as he gazed at her. "Now to get back to your question?"

"How do you keep yourself from going berserk in a fight? How do you maintain control of your anger?" she asked earnestly.

"Practice."

She frowned at him and sighed her exasperation. "That's what B'Elanna said. But how do you practice without hurting anyone?" 

"Come on, Malista. Think about it. The holodeck," he said. "You practice with holographic opponents. They can't get hurt. You start out easy and work your way up to more complicated scenarios. I have several programs designed to do just that. You want Cardassian opponents?"

She shuddered. "No. Not to start with. Could you help me set it up?"

"Yeah." He gazed at her analytically. "Tell me something?"

"All right," she said cautiously.

"Are you and Kim really through?"

She swallowed hard. "Yes. I think so. Yes. We are." She closed her eyes, trying to clamp down on her emotions.

He reached over and patted her hand soothingly. "Sorry. I'm not very good with small talk. I just want you to know---when you're ready to go out with someone else---I'm interested."

She gulped, unsure how to respond. One thing about George Natwick, you always knew where you stood with him. He was interested in her and had let her know it---with all the subtlety and tact of a Tellarite on a tear. 

"George---I'm not ready for that---with anyone." She touched the flowers she wore on her head and gazed at him with a hint of speculation.

He nodded thoughtfully. "I just thought I'd put my name on your list before the stampede starts."

"Oh, George, that's so sweet!" she said, impulsively. It was flattering and comforting in a way to know he thought she was so attractive there would be a lot of competition for her attention. 

He blushed to the roots of his sandy brown hair. "I don't think anyone's ever called me sweet before." At six feet, four inches in height with a massively powerful build, it was easy to believe that 'sweet' was not the first adjective that would come to mind in describing the security guard.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to embarrass you. I'll come by tomorrow and pick up the programs you're talking about." She got to her feet.

"Sure. And if you have any problems---"

"Thanks, George." She took his hand for a moment in hers as a gesture in parting. She turned and walked back to the Delaneys' table.

Harry had surreptitiously kept Shadow and Natwick in his line of sight. He wasn't the only one in Sandrine's watching the unique pairing and noting all the details of their encounter. The two of them seemed to be getting along very well. Holding hands, smiling at each other. What in the world could she have said to make him blush? Blushing? George Natwick?

How could she possibly be interested in George Natwick? She preferred George Natwick to him? She hadn't seemed that fond of Natwick at the Cinco de Mayo party at the resort. In fact, she'd acted like she was afraid of him. She must be a better actress than he'd given her credit for. He tossed down the last bit of his drink and headed for the exit.

In the corridor, he slammed to a halt as he came face to face with Tom Paris and B'Elanna Torres. All three of them hesitated. "Hi," Harry said after a moment.

"Hello, Harry," Torres replied. "Leaving so soon?" 

Tom still didn't speak. He didn't look hostile---but he didn't look terribly friendly either. His eyes were shuttered---showing nothing at all---not even to Harry who could usually read him fairly well.

"Yeah, I, uh---"

"Would you like to join us for a drink?" Tom asked neutrally. 

"Us?"

"B'Elanna and me. Who did you think I meant?"

Torres elbowed him. Tom grunted, but didn't make his usual seriocomic protest. "Come on, Harry. We haven't talked in a week at least," B'Elanna complained.

Kim hesitated. He wanted to get their relationship back on a normal footing---but what if Malista joined them? No, she wouldn't. She didn't want to talk to him. She'd keep her distance. "Okay, sure." 

He turned and the trio entered Sandrine's together. Ignoring the buzzing of speculative whispers, they moved to their regular table. Tom went to get their drinks, pausing to flirt with Sandrine in French for a few moments. He liked to keep in practice. In writing the program, Tom had turned off the Universal Translator function to allow the French ambiance to be completely authentic. Of course, the characters could speak any language known to Voyager's computer and replied in the language in which they were addressed, so there was no opportunity for misunderstanding.

"So, Harry, how have you been?" Torres asked.

Kim jerked his eyes away from his study of Malista who was now sitting with the Delaneys and their dates and talking a blue streak. He looked at Torres with pretended nonchalance. "I'm fine. How are you doing?"

"Fine. So what have you been doing with your time? I haven't seen you in here lately." 

"Come on, B'Elanna. Let's not try to pretend you wanted to see me," he said quietly.

She shrugged. "It's been awkward. But Malista told us that she doesn't want this situation to ruin our friendship. We won't be double-dating, but we can still be friends."

"Did she tell Tom about---why we broke up?"

"Yes. At least she told him what you said," Torres said. She leaned forward to capture his dark eyes with her own. "But that really didn't explain much about why you broke up. Why did you, Harry? Because it sure sounds like you did it all on your own---without much help from Malista. She still doesn't understand what happened."

He closed his eyes. "I don't know. That's the worst of it. I don't know myself."

She frowned her concern at his level of distress. "Do you want to talk?"

"Yes. But not here." Harry looked at the ceiling, the table, everywhere but at her. "And not with Tom. Can we talk alone?"

She nodded slowly. Tom was approaching the table. "Tom, I'll be back in a little while. Why don't you shoot some pool? You could use the practice if you plan on winning back those replicator credits from me," Torres teased as she and Harry got to their feet. 

Harry's eyes were fixed on the exit. B'Elanna and Tom exchanged glances. She jerked her head toward Harry and the exit. Tom nodded. He bent down for a quick kiss before reluctantly letting her go. 

Tom took the tray of drinks and went to join Malista and the Delaneys and their dates at their table. "I come bearing gifts," he announced.

"I thought that was my job," Malista joked.

"But if you brought them, we couldn't drink them," Paris retorted. He received blank looks from Megan and Jenny. Tom found it hard to understand how the twin geniuses of Stellar Cartography could be so ignorant of literary references. They must have concentrated on math and sciences to the exclusion of all but the mandatory historical and cultural courses offered at the Academy. For clarification, he added. "Beware of Greeks bearing gifts." 

The blank looks intensified. 

"Never mind," he sighed. Malista smothered a giggle.

"Nice flowers, Malista," Trent Salaka commented, his hazel eyes warm and friendly.

"Thank you. And Tom, thank you!" Malista added.

Now it was Paris' turn to look blank. "For what?"

Malista smiled at him. "For the flowers---you put them in my quarters, didn't you?" Her smile faltered.

"No. I don't know anything about them."

Megan grinned mischievously. "Wasn't there a card with the flowers?"

Malista touched the blue and white wreath of flowers. "Yes. But it said 'From Your Secret Admirer'---I thought it had to be Tom. Who else would know that today is Greek Independence Day?---old calendar March 25th."

"Wait a second! Wasn't that party a few weeks ago supposed to be for Cinco de Mayo? And that means the fifth of May. I'm not that great on old calendar dates, but I know that March comes before May!" Paris protested.

"Neelix just called it a Cinco de Mayo party to justify changing the decor," Paul Bloorden explained.

"Uh-oh," Jenny said, shooting a speculative look from Tom to Malista. 

"Uh-oh, what?" Tom said irritably. He mistrusted the mischievous glint in the redhead's eyes. 

"Well, if you didn't send the flowers---don't you think B'Elanna's going to be upset about it?" Jenny inquired, a little too innocently.

Tom and Malista exchanged bemused glances. "Why would B'Ella care if Malista gets flowers from someone else?"

Megan jumped into the conversation quickly, almost frantically. "No reason." She tried to quell her sister with a frown, but was ignored.

"Come on, Tom! Everyone knows Torres is the jealous type!" Jenny complained. "You think she'll appreciate someone horning in---"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Paris demanded.

So Jenny told him.

*****************

Torres settled herself cross-legged on the couch in Harry's quarters. He sat next to her his body turned to face her. Neither of them spoke for a few minutes. His posture, demeanor---everything about him screamed that Harry was absolutely miserable. Torres felt a twinge of sympathy for him. She gentled her tone and touched his knee to get his attention. "What happened, Harry?"

"I thought Malista told you!" he said, refusing to meet her eyes.

"No, I said she told Tom what you said that night. I don't understand any of it. If Malista was telling the truth---" She deliberately left it hanging.

"I'm sure she did. There's no reason for her to lie," Kim said sullenly.

Torres bit down on her rising impatience. "So you did accuse her of cheating on you? You did accuse her of attempting suicide? You did accuse her of using you to learn about sex?" Each sentence was spoken at a slightly higher volume.

Kim flinched. "Yes."

"Then would you like to tell me WHY you said all those things, Harry Kim? Did you believe they were true? Or did you totally lose your mind?!" she shouted furiously, her patience snapping.

He cringed away from the volume of her question, holding one ear. "That's part of it. Right there."

"What?! What are you talking about?"

"She never got mad---no matter what I said! She didn't even care what I thought! She didn't defend herself!"

Torres sat there with her mouth agape. She shook her head, then pounded her forehead a couple of times with the palm of her hand. It didn't help. "What are you talking about?" she said with exaggerated clarity, forcing herself to speak, not shout.

"She never told me how she felt. I never made her mad---she didn't care enough about me to get mad. What else was I supposed to think? You know she's a ---that she's technically a---that she's never made love to a man before? If it was you, what would you do? You'd pick the---the safest man on the ship to experiment with---that's what you'd do! And that's what she did!" He was on his feet and shouting himself now. 

She sat on the couch and gaped up at him. She didn't know whether to slap him, shake him---or just walk out and leave him in his misery. "I thought you had some brains, Harry Kim. Sit down!" she ordered. "If we're going to talk about this, we're going to be methodical!" 

She felt a temptation to laugh as she heard herself. When had she, the hot-headed half Klingon, Maquis warrior, become the calm, rational one? The voice of reason? The irony of it struck her dumb for a moment. 

She waited till he complied, collapsing on the couch as if he didn't have the energy to sustain his indignation. "Now," she said. "Let's start with the accusations you made. Let's start with the most outrageous---no, they're all outrageous! Let's start with the one that makes the least sense! You accused her of trying to *kill* herself?!"

"She was careless! She replaced a power coupling in a live junction box!" he said defensively. "You know that violates every safety---"

"Harry!" She glared at him. "That isn't what caused the accident! And you know it! Another coupling went out and caused an explosion in the level above them. She told you---and she told me---the power coupling she changed out was going to fail---at any moment! And if it went, it was possible the ship would lose the shields! Since we were in an asteroid field, that would *not* be a good thing! I chewed her out for ignoring the safety regs. But that's not what caused the accident!" she repeated. "So how could you possibly think she deliberately risked her life? Not to mention her partner's?"

"I know," he muttered, tearing his fingers through his thick black hair. He rested his elbows on his knees. "But she almost got herself killed!"

"Harry," she said more gently. "It scared you?"

His agonized eyes met her own. "Yes! I don't want to lose---anyone else. I don't want to be afraid for someone else!"

She shook her head sadly. "So you drove her away, before you could lose her?"

"I know. It was really stupid," Kim said, dropping his eyes.

"Did you honestly believe she was suicidal?"

"No. I don't know why I said that. Maybe I just wanted to make sure she was listening to me. I wanted to be sure I had her attention. It popped out of my mouth before I could stop it---before I knew I was going to say it---and then after I said it, I began to wonder if it could be true after all."

"And how do you think that made her feel? When you threw that in her face? Only the Senior Officers, the Doctor, and Kes know about her suicide attempt. She hoped everyone would forget about it. How do you think she felt about it when you brought up one of her most painful memories?"

"I wanted to make sure she wouldn't try it again. I was afraid she might. I know---it doesn't make sense."

"You're right. It doesn't. Now, what about the jealousy thing? When we were at the holodeck---at Lake Como, that afternoon, Malista said you'd been acting funny. She thought maybe you were jealous, but she didn't understand why. And I told her not to worry about it---that you'd get over it," Torres said heavily, feeling guilty for dismissing Malista's concerns.

Harry frowned. "What were you doing at Lake Como? With her?"

"The captain ordered me to rest for a couple of hours," she replied evasively.

"B'Elanna, that's the kind of answer that made me suspicious of her! She never told me anything! It was like pulling Rigellian blood weeds out by the root to get her to say more than a few sentences!" Harry squirmed under B'Elanna's frowning regard. 

"All right. I didn't promise not to tell anyone what we talked about. Maybe it will help you understand. Malista told me she's afraid of losing her temper."

"Afraid of---? Why?" Of all the possible explanations for Shadow's behavior that he'd thought of, this one had never occurred to Harry.

"Because as she put it, the last time she lost her temper she killed four Cardassians."

"Wha---oh, she meant on Huldon III? But why---"

"Harry, that's why she never let anyone get her angry---or tried not to. She pushed all her anger deep inside. She was terrified of losing control if she started getting angry. She was afraid she'd hurt someone. So instead of saying anything when someone upset her, she gave them what they wanted---or she withdrew. She punished herself for getting angry. She turned her anger inward---and that leads to depression. People who are depressed tend to stop talking to anyone."

She watched the change in his expression as understanding came to him. "That's why---why didn't she tell me?"

Torres stared at him silently, letting him think about it. 

"Oh, I get it," he said bitterly. "Young Ensign Kim! He's so innocent---let's not shock him. Is that it?"

"Damn it, Harry!" she snarled. "Think about her feelings, not your own! Have you told her about the Akritarian prison? How close you came to murdering someone?"

His color faded, leaving his skin a pasty yellow. "You mean Tom. No. I haven't told her---did you?"

"If I thought you were in your right mind, I'd break you in pieces for even asking that question!" she shouted fiercely. "NO! I didn't tell her. The ship's gossips got hold of the story---Kahless knows how! How do you think Natwick knew about the pipe? She's heard the gossip---just like everyone else. The only ones who know the truth are you and Tom. And I didn't mean Tom---I meant that you were ready to kill some of the prisoners if that was what it took to protect yourself---or Tom. If you'd had to, would you have killed one of them?" 

He nodded. 

She lowered her voice and touched his arm gently. "Harry, you blame yourself for almost killing Tom when you were out of control with that clamp in your head---making you crazy. Now, try to imagine how Malista feels. She told me the Cardassians were lying there unconscious and helpless---and she 'murdered' them. That's how she thinks of it. And she doesn't have a clamp to blame it on!"

Harry's hands were trembling. He glanced up at her with tear-filled eyes. "I must have---hurt her so much. I wish she'd talked to me about it. I kept pushing her---trying to make her angry---trying to make her tell me off! I didn't want her pretending everything was fine---when it wasn't! I thought---if she really cared for me, she'd---she wouldn't let me treat her that way. She'd stand up to me and fight back! She'd tell me the truth---about how she felt about me!"

"Harry, Harry, Harry," Torres said, unconsciously copying Tom Paris' form of address. "Why didn't you ask her?"

"I did!"

"You asked her why she never got angry?"

"No," he said hesitantly. "I sort of hinted around."

"Argh!" she shouted, bouncing to her feet and beginning to pace. She'd reached the limits of her patience. "How can two people be so stupid!!!!" It sounded like a war cry.

"Me and Malista?" he asked resignedly.

"No! You and me!" she retorted.

"What? Why are you stupid?" Harry gazed up at her in befuddlement.

"I've been doing the same thing with Tom," she announced. "I wanted him to talk to me---so I either interrogated him till he ran and I got mad at him---or I 'hinted around' then got mad at him because he didn't get the hints! Fortunately, I haven't gone quite as far as you did in my stupidity! Or he's a little less vulnerable than Malista---or better at deflecting my anger. He should be. He's had enough practice."

"So what do we do now?" Harry said dejectedly.

"Tell me something, Harry. Have you ever seen Tom lose his temper?" She couldn't resist the temptation to pump Paris' best friend for information.

"No. Why?"

"Never?"

He frowned at her. "What do you mean? Oh, he gets upset, angry--- when he's irritated, he smirks, and gets louder. I can't say I've really seen him *lose* his temper," Harry said. "I think he worries about losing control."

Torres raised an ironic brow. "Sound familiar?"

Harry closed his eyes and collapsed back on the couch. "Malista. I expected her to react the way you do---not the way Tom does. If I can understand Tom, why didn't I understand Malista?"

"Good question. They have a lot in common. Your hormones probably interfered where Malista was concerned. But let's get back on the subject. We were discussing the things you said to her---we've covered suicide and anger. Now, tell me why you were jealous and accused her of using you for sex! I thought you offered to teach her about sex! When you were stranded together on Dynos Six?"

"I did---but maybe I didn't know---didn't think---what the consequences would be," he mumbled. He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling.

"What consequences? I thought you two were---getting along fine! She was always kissing you and---was that the problem? You didn't like the public displays of affection? You decided you didn't want her after all? She wasn't a good student?" She goaded him deliberately.

He sat straight up and glared at her. "NO! The problem is she was a very good student---I'm just a lousy teacher!" The moment the words escaped him, he turned away from her, breathing hard as he tried to get his fury and chagrin under control.

B'Elanna subsided, thoughtfully massaging her temples as she tried to think of what to say to that admission. "Harry," she began tentatively. She reached out to touch his shoulder, but he jerked away from her hand.

"You can see why I couldn't talk to Tom about this!" His voice was choked. "Malista is totally inexperienced! She was starting to trust me. To---want me---at least it seemed like it. I couldn't decide if she really wanted ME---or if she was just---curious. And if we did try---What if I---what if she didn't---I'm not very experienced myself. What if I did something---What if I made it *worse* for her?"

'Oh, Kahless,' Torres thought, 'why did I ever start this conversation? I know a Klingon's life is meaningless without challenges---but this? Is this some kind of test? A warrior's trial?'

She took a deep breath. "Harry, if you care about her---and she cares about you---the two of you will---find a way to make it work." She rolled her eyes at the inadequacy of her own words. "You need to talk---to her! And as for talking to Tom---I think you might be underestimating him. He'd never hurt you by making jokes about---about something like this. If you had questions about---sex---I'm sure Tom would do his best to give you good advice---Tom wants you both to be happy. Or you could try talking to the doctor---no, maybe not."

Harry's shoulders straightened. He turned slowly to meet her eyes. "Do you think she would---Would Malista even listen to an apology?"

Torres sent him an encouraging smile. "I think so. You won't know until you try. She still cares for you. I know that much. She's very confused and hurt right now. You need to be honest with her. If you start by telling her how you feel, she might be willing to tell you what you want to know." 

'Thank you, Chakotay,' she thought fervently as she recycled to Harry the advice the first officer had given her.

Harry's expression lightened, his dark eyes glinting with hope. "Thanks, B'Elanna. You're a good friend."

She got to her feet. "Well, I think you have enough to think about---and I need to start following my own advice. I'll see you tomorrow."

He gave her a quick hug before walking her to his door. "I'm going to think of a special apology for Malista. I can't stand another day of this---silence."

"Good for you!" she said. When the door slid closed, she headed back to Sandrine's to find Tom. Malista and Harry would have to work out their own problems. She was through playing Miss Fixit---except in Engineering, of course. She wanted to have a talk with Tom. A long talk---so maybe not tonight---but soon. 

****************

Looking forward to a long, cool drink and a chance to finally relax, B'Elanna walked into Sandrine's and a solid wave of apprehension and avid curiosity radiating from those present hit her in the face like the slap of a wet towel. 

Torres was beginning to feel she was definitely being tested---and if she could identify those who were behind the conspiracy to try her patience with one trial after another---they wouldn't live long enough to correlate the data.

All eyes were fixed on the Delaneys' table. Tom Paris and Malista Shadow were sitting there. Tom got to his feet, his usual fluid grace missing, his body taut as a bowstring. His attention was fixed on Jenny Delaney. The redhead was tossing her hair back and glaring up at him defiantly. Megan looked dismayed. 

Torres looked at Malista for her reaction. The younger girl seemed to have crumpled in on herself. She was hunched in her chair, arms wrapped around her midsection, cringing as if she'd received a painful blow. Her eyes were wide open---and horrified.

B'Elanna scowled fiercely. There went all hope for a peaceful drink! She shoved her way through the onlookers and marched up to Tom's side in time to hear Jenny remark, "I didn't make it up, Tom! As a friend, I thought you'd want to know! I'm just telling you what everyone's saying!"

Torres touched Tom's forearm and was surprised when he flinched slightly. "Just what is everyone saying, Jenny?" she asked, with a fierce glower at the redhead.

Tom looked down at B'Elanna. His blue eyes were opaque, a cold cadet blue. "It seems that we've---the three of us---" he indicated himself, Shadow, and Torres, "have been seen leaving the holodeck in our robes. Five times in the last two weeks."

Torres didn't get it. "So what?" She glanced at Malista. 

The younger woman looked up at her with stricken eyes. Tears brimmed in her eyes. "I'm sorry, B'Elanna. I didn't know---I never thought---Oh! I can't believe ---I'm so sorry!" She jumped to her feet and ran for the exit, pushing her way through the crowd that had gathered. 

Unnoticed in the confusion, Ensign George Natwick followed her.

Furious, and having no other target, Torres started for Jenny Delaney. "What did you say, Delaney?"

Tom snaked an arm around her waist and, using his strength and B'Elanna's momentum, spun her in a circle away from her target, holding her tightly against his body and putting himself between Torres and the Delaneys. She snarled up at him, but didn't try to pull away. She wouldn't risk hurting Tom to get to Jenny. It wasn't worth it.

"It's gossip, B'Ella. Hitting Jenny won't change anything," Tom said bleakly. "And like she said, she didn't start the story---she was just letting me know it was being said."

Megan Delaney had the good sense to grab her sister and disappear into the crowd while Paris was distracting Torres. 

"What gossip?" B'Elanna demanded, searching his eyes for a hint of feeling.

Paris jerked a hand toward the gathering of spectators watching with avid interest. "Let's talk somewhere else?" Without waiting for an answer or even looking at her, he loosened his grip on her and turned them toward the exit. The crowd quickly parted to let them through.

******************

Natwick didn't have to go far to find Malista Shadow. She hadn't made it past the Observation Lounge, two doors down from the holodeck. She had collapsed on the couch against the wall, her arms wrapped around her waist. She was rocking back and forth, tears silently streaming down her face. Natwick had never in his entire Starfleet career felt so helpless. This was something strength, training, and skill couldn't fix. She looked---desperately, frantically unhappy. She was mumbling something under her breath. He couldn't make out the words.

"Malista?" 

She didn't respond. If anything, the mumbling increased in volume. Natwick could at least tell that she wasn't speaking in Standard. He would guess it was Greek. He would have felt more at ease if it had sounded like cursing. It sounded like a mournful litany. He moved away from the door and eased himself down onto the couch next to her. She ignored him.

"Malista," he said, a little more loudly. Still no reaction---so he touched her shoulder. 

She jerked to sudden awareness and frantically scrambled away from him as far as she could. The arm of the couch stopped her mid-flight as she crashed into it with her side. The impact seemed to jar her from her trance. Her green eyes lit on him with recognition. "George?" she whispered huskily. 

"Yeah. Are you okay?" His brow furrowed with concern as he took in her chalky complexion, the feverish brightness of her eyes.

"George," she said again, this time with a hint of relief. She strove to smile politely, but failed miserably. "Did you hear what they said?"

"No. What did they say?" He was relieved she was talking to him. He had an idea what she was upset about---he did hear most of the ship's gossip. He didn't understand why a few stupid comments would upset her to this degree.

She bit her lip---hard---not for the first time. A drop of blood appeared. 

"Malista!" George took her hand in his and shook it. "Don't! You're hurting yourself!"

She gazed at him blankly. 

He touched a finger to her lower lip, wiping the blood away. He showed the splotch to her. 

"Oh," she sighed. She shook her head, tossing her hair back over her shoulder, bunching it with one hand, then releasing it as if she didn't know what to do with it. 

"What's wrong?" he asked quietly, taking her hand in his. Few people would have recognized him in this frame of mind. Compassion was not a word associated with Ensign George Natwick.

Her voice was thick, her eyes dropped, as she said, "The gossips say that Tom and B'Elanna and I---that we're having an affair! The three of us!"

"And are you?" He'd heard of stranger things. At least these three were all human. The idea of a trio didn't shock him.

It obviously did shock her. "No!" She snatched her hand away from him. "We were using my exercise program---we wear tights---that's why we always wear robes when we leave the holodeck! We aren't---we never---Tom is like a brother---I never---" she spluttered.

"Calm down," he requested impassively. His lack of emotional response reassured her somehow. "People talk. On this ship, there's not much else to do. You know it's not true---so what do you care what the dimwits say?"

She thought about that for a moment. "But it's not true. They shouldn't--- they don't even know---"

"Malista, you're a very private person, right?"

She nodded, her eyes huge as she gazed at him---as if she were drowning and he were offering a life-saving rope. 

"It makes you uncomfortable for people to talk about you?"

She nodded again.

"Well, you can't stop them from talking. Get used to it. Is that really what you're worried about?" He frowned at her, sensing there was another layer to her anxiety.

"I don't want this---talk---to hurt Tom---or Ha---B'Elanna!" she blurted.

"Why should it?"

Her eyes widened even further. He hadn't thought it possible. "But, George, he's---she's a very jealous person! She isn't going to like people saying things like ---about Tom---You know he---" She let a gesture finish the sentence. "She'll be very angry!"

He noticed her slips and permitted himself a small smile. "Malista, you're forgetting---she knows the truth. If there's nothing going on with you three---"

"There isn't!" she insisted vehemently.

He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Okay. Then she knows it. She won't be mad at you."

She drove her fingers into her hair and pulled at the coronet of flowers till it came loose then threw the flowers onto the table nearby. "Why am I so stupid? Every time I get close to someone they get hurt! Tom and B'Elanna were just being kind---being my friends---and look what it got them! The scandal of the ship! I can't be friends with them any more! Everyone's whispering and sneaking looks---oh, damn it! Why didn't I just die at Huldon III? It would have saved everyone so much trouble!" She didn't cry. Her tears seemed to have dried up. The look of quiet desperation was back. Her eyes were wild.

It made Natwick uneasy. Counseling was not his area of expertise, but he knew he should try to turn her thoughts to something positive. "There are a lot of people who'd be very unhappy if you had. Like Tom Paris. B'Elanna Torres." He hesitated, then added, "Harry Kim."

At the mention of the Ensign's name, she covered her face with her hands. "Oh, George, I made such a mess of everything. Poor Harry. I expected too much of him. I can't---I couldn't--- maybe if I had---And now this rumor---He'll think Tom--- his best friend---if I could stop the rumors---I could save their friendship---but how?" She broke off in confusion, lost in thought for several moments.

Natwick cleared his throat. "Malista, if there's anything I can do to help---?" He stopped. He didn't know what he expected her to say---but it certainly wasn't what she did say.

"George," she drawled thoughtfully, slowly dropping her hands from her face and tilting her head to slide a considering look in his direction. 

That glint in her eyes made him nervous. His palms started to sweat. He'd never seen that particular look in a woman's eyes before. He didn't know what it meant.

She gathered all her courage and knelt on the couch next to him. Her hands came out to grip his muscular upper arms. "George, you're something of a ladies' man, aren't you?"

His eyes narrowed warily. "Yeah, sort of. Some women think so," he replied. "Why?"

"I want you to do me a favor," she said, peering into his eyes with intensity. She slid her hands from his arms, up his shoulders, and around his neck.

"What kind of favor?" he asked suspiciously.

She smiled---a Mona Lisa smile, mysterious---seductive. "I've never had sex---made love with anyone. I want you---to teach me how to make love to a man."

Ensign George Natwick gulped.

********************

Tom Paris kept a firm hold on B'Elanna Torres' waist as he all but hauled her along, forcing her to step quickly to keep up with his long, ground-eating strides. Though he was taking her with him, she wasn't sure he knew she was there. Usually so polite and considerate, he didn't seem to notice it was an effort for her to match his pace. She'd never seen him so---upset. She wondered if this was how he looked when he was angry.

When he moved, he usually reminded her of a dancer---all smooth, fluid, graceful movements. At the moment, he more closely resembled a Tarellian Tiger, silken steel muscles rippling under velvety azure fur as it stalked its prey. His cheeks were reddened as he flushed with the heat of his wrath. His usually expressive blue eyes were cold, blank. He looked absolutely---dangerous. 

She felt her own heartbeat accelerating---but not with fear or anger. Her own anger had melted away in fascination at Tom's reaction to the confrontation at Sandrine's.

He stopped at his quarters, and without asking, punched in the code and towed her inside. He stood in the center of the room for a moment. Finally, he absent-mindedly released his hold on her---almost as if he'd forgotten he'd been holding onto her---and stalked over to the viewport, glaring out at the stars as if the very sight of them offended him. His hands hung at his sides, fists clenched, knuckles whitened. Every muscle in his body seemed to have locked into a posture perfect position reminiscent of Starfleet protocols for coming to attention. 

"Tom?" she ventured cautiously.

His jaw worked for a moment---as if he was going to speak. He shook his head as if the effort to say anything was beyond him. She hesitated, unsure whether touching him was a good idea or not. She decided to try it. Touch was an important part of communicating with Tom. It always seemed to comfort and settle him.

She slipped an arm lightly around his waist. He welcomed her by placing his hand over hers to hold her arm in place. His hand tightened painfully on her fingers. "Tom?" she whispered. "Are you okay?"

"No," he said, almost inaudibly. 

"What's the matter? Can I help?"

"You are helping," he said. He reached behind him and pulled her around in front of him. He took both her hands in his. "I'm just so---angry. Maybe you should leave." His jaw tightened, his teeth clenched causing his neck muscles to tauten.

"Why?"

He shook his head, a tremor ran through his tense body as he fought for control of his voice, his body, and his emotions.

"Are you going to throw a tantrum?" she asked curiously, a hint of a smile in her dark eyes. 

He dropped her hands and faced the viewport again. "I want to," he retorted tersely. With clenched fists, he leaned against the bulkhead. He was holding himself so rigidly, his muscles quivered with the strain.

She frowned at him. She didn't understand this kind of anger. He wasn't doing---anything. She'd have been hitting something or throwing things by now.

"How dare they?" he muttered.

"What?"

"How dare they do this?" he said, his volume increasing two decibels. He spun to face her. The flush of temper had faded, leaving him bleached white, the finely shaped bones of his face standing out in stark relief against the darkness behind him. The ice in the blue eyes had thawed---consumed by blue hot flames that danced like sparks from a chemical blaze. "How could those vicious, mean-mouthed, ignorant, babbling, blockheads start a story like that---About you? About Malista?" 

She felt as if she was about to witness a flash flood. She prepared herself for a sudden torrential onslaught of earsplitting, furious words. To her complete surprise, his voice became quieter and more controlled---it was a deadly combination --- positively venomous. He wasn't seeing her at all. His eyes were intent on nothing ---except perhaps an inner vision that she couldn't share. Though she knew the words and anger were not directed at her, she felt a chill run up her spine. 

"How could anyone be so malicious---so *vile* as to start a rumor like that? Me? I'm fair game. There's nothing they can say about me that hasn't been said before---but Malista is an innocent! You should have seen the look on her face when she heard---And you! How could they possibly think---How many times have you saved this ship?! Saved their stinking lives?---If I find out--If I find out who started this vicious smear-" His voice was a deadly hiss.

"To deliberately hurt someone--- I'm used to it. I've been a target before---but to hurt you---to involve Malista---to twist the truth--- when she's already in such pain! She's never hurt anyone on this ship!---I will rip them limb from limb. If I find out. If I find out who started this rumor, Tuvok will never find enough *pieces* to figure out what happened to them." It was a promise. His upper lip curled up in a feral sneer. He was focused on an invisible opponent, his eyes appeared to be calculating exactly where and when he planned to strike---or how he could hurt that person the most.

"Tom!" B'Elanna's shocked brown eyes met his. She seized his shoulders and shook him. She was frightened by his intensity. She knew---intellectually---that he would never hurt her---but the glacial, deliberate nature of his threats scared her. She was used to a red hot rage---one that flared up hotly and quickly ---dying out nearly as fast as it flared up. This cold, implacable rage was something she didn't understand. He seemed to still be somewhat in control. She decided then and there that she did NOT want to see him lose his temper. *Ever*. "Tom, calm down. You're overreacting."

As she shook him and broke his concentration, Tom's mind came back from far away---from a lonely and desolate place to which it had traveled. "B'Elanna?" He was bemused by her presence and her expression. 

"Tom?" She peered up into his eyes, searchingly. The cool, controlled Tom Paris was beginning to emerge as he gave her his full attention, his anger sublimated by concern for her obvious distress.

"Yes, B'Ella? What's the matter?" He grimaced as a twinge of pain shot through his forehead, a reaction to stress and tension. "Are you okay?" He raised a hand toward her face to cup her cheek.

She took his hand and led him to the recliner, pushing him gently onto it. He cooperated easily in an effort to please her, his body relaxing into the welcome support of the chair. He tugged on her arm, pulling her down beside him. She snuggled into his side as his arm automatically encircled her shoulders. She propped herself up on one elbow, still staring at him worriedly. "Tom, are you all right?" 

He closed his eyes and sighed deeply. "I'm sorry, B'Ella. I shouldn't let myself get so---worked up." He used his free hand to rub his forehead. "I get such a tension headache when I---" He stopped and forced himself to think before he spoke. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" She rested her head on his shoulder, leaning into the curve of his neck and inhaling the spicy scent of Tom mixed with the tangy sweet citrus smell of his aftershave. She worked her fingers around the top three buttons of his shirt, slipping them out of the holes and loosening the neckline. 

"I shouldn't lose my temper," he muttered. "I'm sorry I barked at you. You know I'm not---"

"You didn't bark at me," she murmured, resisting the temptation to take a little nip of the soft, warm skin of his throat. "Would you like to tell me what---upset you so much?" 

The stress and tension of his wrath had taken a toll on his body. He felt exhausted. Her question, however, snapped him out of his lethargy. "What? I didn't tell you?"

She shook her head. Her hair tickled his cheek. 

"Damn," he said in disgust. "There's a rumor going around the ship that you and Malista and I---are a trio. And that the reason Malista and Harry broke up was because Harry didn't want to share---"

He was beginning to tense up again. She propped herself on her elbow and looked down at him. She used her index finger to stop his lips. "Tom. Calm down." Her hand went up to massage his temple, stroke his hair.

He stared at her, perplexed by her serenity. "B'Elanna, what is wrong with you? Why aren't you as enraged about this as I am? I thought you'd be---I don't know--"

"Furious? I am." She ran her finger up the side of his face and meticulously traced his cheekbones, then his eyebrows before trailing her fingers down his throat.

"You don't look it," he murmured, moving into her touch as he became distracted.

"You were furious enough for both of us. Since we can't stop a rumor or trace it back to the source---it's kind of pointless to get so upset anyway."

He felt a red tide of heat rushing into his cheeks. "Yeah. Listen, I'm really sorry-" He turned his face away. He hated losing control---and to have done it at Sandrine's---and in front of B'Elanna Torres! "I should have---I'm sorry if I've embarrassed you. I'll be fine. If you want to leave, I understand---"

B'Elanna grabbed his chin and forced him to look her in the eye. "Thomas Eugene Paris, you have not embarrassed me. Is that clear?" she asked sternly.

A flicker of amusement crossed his face. "Yes, Ma'am!" 

She loved the way he said that---polite, respectful but with an underlying hint of impudence. "How many times have you seen me lose my temper?"

Tom's eyebrow furrowed as he thought that one over. "I have no idea, Ma'am. I can't count that high without a calculator. Or did you mean just today?"

"Exactly. So don't apologize for losing your temper." She took her courage in both hands and plunged onward. "When two people care for each other, they have to expect to take the good with the bad---tempers and all."

Tom's breath caught in his chest. It was the closest B'Elanna had come to verbalizing her feelings for him. He brought his hand up to cup her cheek. "You are not only beautiful, but wise."

She almost sloughed off his compliment---as she usually did. This time she decided not to. "Thank you." She received her reward for good manners immediately.

Tom's eyes lit, his face suffused with joy. Smile Number Ten! Pure delight! She would love to see that smile every day. "You're learning, Torres!"

"Don't push your luck, Paris!" she growled, with mock ferocity. "So now that you've calmed down, what do you really want to do about the rumors?"

"What can we do?" he asked bitterly. "Malista was shocked. She's so innocent. She's hurt that anyone could think she'd betray you---or Harry. And that's how she would see it. I don't want to know what Harry's going to think when he hears them. He was jealous already---when he hears the rumor that I'm the guy who stole his girl---and that I've evidently included her in my harem---That's the end of our friendship! I'm going to lose them both. Because of a stinking rumor."

She bent down and captured his lips with her own. When they stopped for breath, she leaned back and said, "Tom, Harry's your best friend. Do you think he'll believe those stories? He knows it isn't true."

"You can't count on that, B'Ella. He was so irrational and jealous that he broke up with Malista over nothing!"

"It wasn't exactly nothing. Remember, I talked to Harry this evening. A lot of it was Harry over-analyzing everything to death and ---a lack of communication. When I left him, he was trying to think of ways to apologize to Malista. I think if she accepts his apology, that will put an end to the rumors," Torres said, slightly diverted from the conversation as she gazed admiringly at Tom's aristocratic profile. Her fingers were making little circles in the red gold curls of hair peeking from the top of his shirt.

"That tickles!" he protested, capturing her hand in his own and kissing her palm. "As for settling the rumors---Naw! They'll probably just say that the four of us---"

His words were cut off by the return of B'Elanna's lips. She explored the shape of his mouth as if mapping new territory. "Tom. What a bunch of idiots choose to talk about doesn't interest me very much. You think we can discuss the rumors some other time? If at all?"

"Hmmm," he murmured. His eyes suddenly flew open. "Malista!" He sat up so abruptly he almost knocked B'Elanna off the recliner. "What happened to Malista?"

Torres gazed at him blankly. 

"She was at Sandrine's. What happened to her? She didn't come with us. Did she stay there?"

"I don't know."

"Computer, locate Crewman Malista Shadow." He was pacing the floor now. He couldn't believe he hadn't remembered to check up on her---to reassure her.

"Crewman Malista Shadow is in her quarters," the computer's smooth tones replied.

"She'll be all right, then," Paris said, smiling gently at Torres as she came to stand beside him once more. "I'll talk to her in the morning." 

It was fortunate for Tom's peace of mind that he stopped his inquiry there. He didn't think to ask if Malista Shadow was alone.

*****************

George Natwick wasn't sure what he'd gotten himself into. He'd followed Malista because she was distressed---and Paris had been too distracted to notice and do anything about it. He hadn't expected to be propositioned. Not that it hadn't happened before---it was just---it had never---he'd never been propositioned by a virgin before. He didn't think he'd had sex with a virgin---since he'd been one! And that was years---and years ago!

He'd seated himself on the couch in Malista's quarters when she'd excused herself to wash her face and change into "something more comfortable". It was so cliché---but then she probably wouldn't know that. He'd thought the tight green jumpsuit she was wearing looked comfortable. Maybe it wasn't---but it certainly had elevated his blood pressure. George glanced up as she appeared in the doorway of her bedroom. For a moment, he couldn't breathe. 

She looked---beautiful. She'd taken her hair down and loosened her braids. Her shoulder-length hair waved down to teasingly frame her blushing cheeks. Too timid to wear provocative lingerie to set the scene for seduction, she wore very short black shorts, displaying her long, shapely legs. The blouse---white with green embroidery---was the same one she'd worn to the Cinco de Mayo party at the resort a few weeks ago. The elastic of the neckline encircled her upper arms, leaving her neck, shoulders, and the upper curves of her breasts bare and---touchable. Now, as then, George felt a strong desire to caress that lovely expanse of skin---with his hands---or his mouth.

He got to his feet. She approached him tentatively, a smile tugging at her lips as she took in his reaction. Innocent as she was, she could tell her appearance pleased and excited him. They stood facing each other for a moment, looking each other over appreciatively.

George raised his hand toward her waist. She didn't flinch away. He pulled her toward him. She came easily to rest against him. The smile wavered as his head dipped toward hers. His lips brushed across hers, careful not to hurt her lip where she'd bitten it. 

She hadn't expected such gentleness. Not from George Natwick. From his appearance and his usual style of interacting with women, she'd expected---she didn't know what she'd expected. She hadn't thought about---it hadn't occurred to her that she'd be doing this with anyone but---She gritted her teeth and tried to concentrate on the physical sensations of the moment. She didn't want to think---not now. And certainly not about Harry. If she thought about Harry---she'd never be able to go through with this.

George was trailing kisses up her silky throat. His hand came up to cup her breast. He felt her tremble. He paused. She didn't move away or protest. He nipped at her earlobe. She liked that. She made a humming noise as she inhaled a shaky breath. He did it again. 

"Mmm," she murmured. She slid her arms around his waist and nuzzled his neck. His other hand went down to stroke her hip and pull her more firmly against him. She leaned in to his warmth and hardness, reveling in the contrast between her body and his---hardness/softness, silky bare skin/hair-roughened skin, curves/planes. Her hands stroked his back as she tried to work herself even closer to him. She gasped as he sucked her earlobe between his lips and nibbled at it, feeling his warm breath in her ear and caressing her skin. She sighed with pleasure, her words all but inaudible, "Oh, Harry."

Natwick froze.

She tilted her head up to gaze at him, a frown of puzzlement appearing between her eyes at his sudden lack of movement. His hands dropped away from her and he retreated a few steps.

"George? Did I do something---" Her mind caught up with her ears and she realized what she'd said. "Oh." One hand went up to cover her mouth. She extended her other hand towards him. "I'm sorry. George, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to---" She had no idea what to say. 

Natwick was momentarily paralyzed by the conflict between the demands of his mind and body. His hormone-stimulated body was telling him to ignore her slip, accept her apology, and get back to pleasing both her and himself physically. He wanted her---had wanted her for weeks. She was willing. 

His mind was telling him she was emotionally upset---she didn't know what she was doing---and a real man wouldn't take advantage of her. Could he live with himself if they went through with this and she regretted it tomorrow---if not sooner? He wanted desperately to tell his mind to shut up.

"George," she repeated, dismayed and apologetic. She stepped toward him, her arms moving to go around his neck once more.

His hands shot out, caught her wrists and held them in front of him. Confusion, doubt, and---just for a split second---fear---filled her green eyes. It was the fear that settled the issue as far as Natwick was concerned. 

"Malista," he growled. "You don't want this---not really. And not with me." His body shrieked at him that he was forty-seven varieties of a fool. 

She tried to argue with him. "George, you don't understand. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said---I don't know why I said---"

"Because you want---him. You love him, don't you?" His voice was sad, disappointed. He rubbed his thumbs over the base of her palms as he waited for her response. 

She nodded slowly. She'd never admitted it to herself, but as he said it, she suddenly knew it was true. "But it doesn't matter, does it? Because he---doesn't want me," she said mournfully.

"Then he's a fool. So why start something with me? You just wanted to have some fun?" he asked, sarcasm giving his words an edge. "Or am I supposed to be a stand-in for him?"

Her eyes flew back to his. "No. I'm sorry," she repeated. "George, I didn't mean to use you tonight---I just thought---I mean I have to have sex sometime, right? And if it can't be Harry, then---"

"Then it doesn't matter who with?" He drew on his stoic warrior persona as he faced that blow, so deadly to his ego.

She read the hurt she'd dealt him and reacted immediately with compassion. "No! That's not what I meant. George, I wouldn't have tried this with---*anybody*. I do find you attractive---and you're nice. You're a lot sweeter than you let on."

"Uh-huh," he muttered skeptically.

"George," she said, with a flash of anger, "if I wanted just anybody---I could have gone looking for Freddie Bristow---or somebody else who wouldn't think twice about--"

He dropped his hold on her hands. "Freddie Bristow?" he repeated incredulously. "That kid? You would not!" He seemed appalled at the very idea.

"At least *he* wants me!" she shouted, turning her back on him, trying to hide her hurt and humiliation.

He grabbed her shoulders and spun her to face him. "*I* want you!" he said emphatically. 

"Then why not---"

"Because *you* don't want *me*!!" he said pointedly. "Your first time should be with someone you have feelings for, Malista. Don't throw away something special because you're mad at Harry Kim---or because you're trying to stop the cackling of a bunch of empty-headed birdbrains!"

Hot tears spilled over. "Oh, George! I'm sorry. I'm such a mess. I can't believe how stupid---I thought if we---the gossips would stop talking about me and Tom---and Harry kept saying I was 'innocent' so I thought that if you taught me---then Harry would---I could---"

With a mighty effort, Natwick controlled his exasperation and pulled her close to let her cry on his shoulder. "Malista, if you slept with me---even if it was only to get over your fear---I guarantee you---Harry Kim would not like it! He certainly wouldn't appreciate it if you slept with me to stop some rumors. Did you think he'd let you demonstrate what you learned?"

"I wasn't thinking at all!" she sniffed. Pulling away from him, she walked over to her table and grabbed a tissue. She dabbed at her eyes and blew her nose.

"No, you weren't. You were just reacting. Physically, I could teach you a few things. Emotionally, it might do more harm than I can live with. But I'm not going to teach you anything ---not until it's *me* you want. I have too much self-esteem to be a substitute for someone else. It's getting late. Now, I'm leaving. You get some rest." He started for the door. "And don't worry! I won't tell anyone about this! I'm not a gossip."

Her face crumpled as she dropped onto the couch. "Oh, damn. I can't even seduce a man who *does* want me!" She buried her face in the crook of her arm, her shoulders shaking silently. She was muttering under her breath again. This time it did sound like cursing.

Natwick studied her for a moment. Enough was enough. He didn't know all the details, but he knew enough to know who to blame for this fiasco. He marched out her door, leaving it unlocked and headed for the quarters of Ensign Harry Kim. It was his intention to tell---no, make that order--Kim to come apologize to Malista. And if he refused---George almost hoped he would. He was on a very short fuse right now.

****************

"Ensign Kim to Commander Chakotay." 

Janeway looked up from the reports she held and cocked an eyebrow at her first officer quizzically. They'd just gotten settled in to begin work again.

He shrugged with a half smile. "When it rains, it pours?" He put down his datapadd and hit his commbadge. "Chakotay here."

"Commander, I was wondering if you---if you aren't busy, I'd like to speak with you about something." The ensign hesitated as he checked the time. It was getting late for drop in visits.

Janeway, smiling ruefully, was collecting the reports and datapadds once more. She waved a hand at the first officer.

"Of course, Mr. Kim. Would you like to come to my quarters?" Chakotay replied. 

"Be right there. Kim out."

"Captain---"

"Don't worry about it, Chakotay. If these little talks are going to ease some of the tension, it will be well worth the interruptions to our meetings. We'll finish these tomorrow---unless, of course, Tom or Malista decide they have to talk to you!" She smiled as she exited his quarters once more.

He sighed, shook his head, and tried to prepare himself for Harry's arrival.

*********************

Tom turned to look at B'Elanna Torres as he slipped his arm around her shoulders. "I owe Jenny Delaney an apology."

"Why?" Torres snorted. "She was spreading the rumor, wasn't she?"

"No," he replied. "Not really. She was just letting me in on it---before I heard it somewhere else. The Delaneys don't spread rumors. They've been the victims of too many of them. Something I have some experience with myself. I overreacted. I just got---upset---because of the way it affected Malista. She was already in such pain and then this on top of everything else!" He paused, unsure if he should continue. "B'Elanna,---we need to talk." 

She'd never thought he'd be the one to say it. She stared up at him solemnly and nodded slowly. He led her to the couch and sat her down on one end, then moved his armchair perpendicular to her position. She patted the empty space next to her on the couch. "You can't talk sitting next to me?" she asked, half teasing him. He looked so---serious.

A rueful smile tugged at his lips. "You're too distracting. If I'm near enough to touch you---we'll start kissing---and that will be the end of the conversation," he confessed. "I thought that was one of the things you were---annoyed about?" 

For lack of anything better to do with her hands, she crossed her arms. "Yes, Tom. That is one thing I complained about. That you were avoiding having to talk to me by getting physical." It was an effort for her to sit still, but she made it gladly. "Not that I don't enjoy getting physical---"

"B'Elanna, don't make this harder," he said, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. He probably would have looked more at ease facing a firing squad. "We said we were going to get to know each other---and I haven't exactly---I don't really know ---You want to talk?" 

He cleared his throat. His hands clasped the arms of the chair, his knuckles whitening as he forced himself not to flinch away from her brown-eyed appraisal. "I don't know what you want to talk about---how do you---do you want to ask questions, or what?" Smile Number Four flickered on and off his lips.

She took a deep breath and tried to smile at him. He seemed to be braced for an examination---one that he wasn't sure he could pass. She'd never meant to make him this miserable. She wanted to reach out and pull him into her arms, to soothe him---but that would just be postponing this discussion for another time---and it might be harder to get to this point another time. She licked lips that had suddenly gone dry. 'Oh, Chakotay,' she thought, 'I hope you know what you're talking about!'

"Tom, I know I thanked you for your help and support when we were prisoners of the Vidiians," she began. His blues eyes widened. He had expected a question, not this. "But I don't think I ever told you---how brave I thought you were." She tried to swallow past the lump in her throat.

"Brave?" he whispered. "What---?" It was as if he didn't recognize the word.

She nodded. "It was very brave of you to try so hard to protect me---the human me---and Pete Durst. You almost pushed them into killing you when you defied them. You risked your own life to keep the Vidiians from hurting us."

"And I did a bang up job for poor Pete, too," he muttered sourly, dropping his eyes to the floor.

She couldn't stand to see the poignant look on his face. She leaned forward and rested her hand on his forearm, squeezing tightly. "Tom, just because you couldn't save Pete---that doesn't mean you weren't brave. Remember, the Vidiians had all the advantages---weapons, numbers. You stood up to them and tried to put yourself between them and Pete. It's not your fault that they won that round. You did your best."

His mouth twisted as he met her eyes. "And my best wasn't good enough. Again."

"Tom! You make me so mad!" She shook his arm. "Stop beating yourself up so much! If anyone else had been there, would it have made a difference? Could anyone else have done more?"

He thought about it for a moment. "I don't know," he said uncertainly.

"Then give yourself the benefit of the doubt!" She jumped to her feet. "You remember what you told me in the tunnels of that mine? You said that courage doesn't mean you don't have fear. It means you've learned to overcome it. And Tom, you have! You saved my life---maybe my sanity as well! I'm just sorry I let my pride keep me from telling you how much you helped me then! I should have told you--- lots of things---Like I never told you how proud I was of you when you brought Voyager back to us---You kept your head, enlisted help--- Most of us on that planet were just hoping you were---alive." There was a catch in her throat. "We wanted to believe you were---and that you might bring the shuttle or a Talaxian ship to rescue us. We never dreamed you'd bring Voyager back for us!---You were *wonderful*! And I'm sorry I never told you---"

He smiled up at her, wanting desperately to believe she was sincere. "I think I've changed my mind. Maybe we can talk and hold each other at the same time?" he asked wistfully. He held his arms up.

She laughed and threw herself into his lap, her arms circling his neck. "Do you think this is going to help?" 

He stroked her hair and studied her face as if memorizing it. "You are so beautiful."

"That's funny. I was just thinking the same thing about you," she murmured, caressing his cheek with her palm. She felt herself falling into the blue, mesmerizing pools of his eyes. 

"B'Ella, I wanted to tell you," he paused to clear his throat. "I wanted to say I'm sorry for not being more---honest about how I feel. You wanted to know what happened at Caldik Prime and I wouldn't---"

She placed a finger over his lips. "It's not important, Tom. That's your past. I never meant for us to have some kind of confession meeting. I don't want a chance to cross-examine you. I just want you to feel free to---just be yourself. You don't always have to be---kidding around. If you want to talk about Caldik Prime---or the prison in New Zealand---or whatever---then we'll talk about it. If you feel sad, feel sad with me. If you're happy, share it with me! Tell me what you want from me--- what you need from me! And I'll tell you the same things! We may have to wear a mask in public, but when we're alone together I don't want to wear a mask for you. I don't want you to pretend with me either. I want to be with you---Tom Paris!"

"Aw, B'Ella," he groaned, resting his forehead against hers. "I've been alone so long---until I came to Voyager---it's such a habit to keep everything to myself--- keep myself under control---keep anyone from getting too close!"

"I know. I feel the same way. It's not easy for me to open up either. We can take this slowly---and help each other. I'll fight my impatience. I don't expect you to change overnight, Paris!" she growled. "And I don't plan to either---so don't get your hopes up!"

He chuckled as he stroked her hair once more, running his thumbs lightly over her head bumps. "You're perfect just the way you are! You don't have to change a thing about yourself!"

She put the back of her hand against his forehead.

"What are you doing?" he asked with a puzzled frown.

"Checking for a temperature--- if you think I'm perfect, you must be delirious with fever!" She tried to get off his lap and pretended she was going to call Sickbay.  
He refused to relinquish his hold on her and tried to keep her hands away from her commbadge. They were playfully wrestling when they heard a loud thunk against the outside wall of his quarters.

"What the hell---?" They both got to their feet and started for the exit.

******************

The counseling session with Harry Kim was---different. Within minutes, Chakotay came to the conclusion that the ensign did not, in fact, want advice. He just needed an objective sounding board. Chakotay listened carefully, tried to look wise, and nodded his head at regular intervals.

"---and because I felt insecure, I made all kinds of irrational accusations---I knew they weren't true when I made them, but I couldn't seem to stop myself---and now I want to find a way to apologize. So what do you think I should do now, Commander?" Harry's earnest face was turned toward him.

Chakotay blinked. That was his cue to finally say something. "How about flowers?"

"I've already done that," the ensign admitted. "Of course--- I did it anonymously. I signed the card 'Your Secret Admirer'."

"Why?"

"Why what?" the younger man asked.

"Why not let her know you sent the flowers?" Chakotay elucidated.

Harry flashed him a sheepish grin. " I thought---I wasn't sure she'd accept the flowers if she knew I sent them. So I sent them anonymously. It's Greek Independence Day. The people in Malista's colony celebrate it as a holiday. The blue and white flowers represent the Greek flag. I thought it might make her feel---more like home."

Chakotay smiled kindly at the young man. Trust Harry Kim to do something so thoughtful. "Does Malista like sweets? You could replicate some candy as a gift."

"Chocolate caramels!" Harry said as if inspired. "Thanks, Commander! That's just the thing. But what do I say to her?"

"How about---I'm sorry?"

Harry sighed heavily. "Do you really think that will be enough? I said some pretty unforgivable things to her."

"If they were truly 'unforgivable' then it won't matter what you say," the first officer said simply. "If she's willing to forgive---then I'm sorry is a good place to start."

Ensign Kim looked much happier than when he'd arrived. "Thanks. I'll get to work on those chocolates. I want to settle this."

"It's getting late, Mr. Kim," Chakotay reminded him.

Harry nodded his agreement. "This can't wait another day, sir. I want to settle this tonight!"

Chakotay watched the ensign leave with a spring in his step and felt that perhaps he wasn't doing too badly as Ship's Counselor. He debated calling the captain to come back and work on the reports, checked the chronometer, and decided against it. It was 2400---the ship's Alpha and Beta crews were settling in for the night. Let the captain enjoy the peace and quiet.

****************

Ensign George Natwick had built up quite a head of steam by the time he found Ensign Harry Kim in the corridor. His encounter with Malista had left testosterone surging through his veins. It was pounding through his bloodstream, screaming for some form of release---and since he had nobly turned down the possibility of a sexual release---violent action of some sort would have to be an adequate substitute. For now.

Harry, his mind on other things, was barely aware that George was bearing down on him. He was totally unaware of the expression on Natwick's face---or he would have been on guard. 

The first thing Harry knew of a problem was when he found his path blocked by the massive Natwick. Harry looked up---and up. He frowned. "What's the problem, Natwick?"

"You are, you little---" Natwick's right arm went back.

Harry had the presence of mind to duck under that swing, but was caught on the right side of the face by a follow-through blow from Natwick's left hook. The punch straightened Kim up and sent him crashing into the wall. He was dazed momentarily and shook his head in an effort to clear it. That just made his head hurt and his vision blur.

Tom and B'Elanna came rushing out of Tom's quarters in time to see Natwick latch onto Kim's shoulder and spin the smaller man, preparing for another blow. The big man drew back his fist.

Later, Torres swore to Chakotay that it was over so fast, she didn't even get to see it clearly. Torres had every intention of going for Natwick herself---to keep him from hurting Harry any further. The usually slow-moving, easy-going, calm Tom Paris moved so quickly she missed the whole thing---almost.

Tom's left arm swept her behind him--- then he stepped forward ---and this was the part she missed---probably due to blinking! It was that fast!--- then Paris had Natwick pinned to the wall, the big ensign's right arm bent up behind him, his left arm pinned by his own body. Tom's arm was around Natwick's throat, his foot had kicked Natwick's legs apart so that he was off balance and couldn't get any leverage to break free.

Ensign George Natwick! The self-defense expert of the Security detail. Pinned in less than three seconds---by the ship's pilot! It was unfortunate the Security vidcams were not in a position to catch the exchange. Many crewmembers would have paid replicator credits for a copy of the tape. Especially Natwick's former students.

"Harry? You okay?" Tom panted, firmly holding the squirming Natwick who stopped squirming when he found he couldn't break the lieutenant's hold without hurting himself. That was another first. Several crewmembers in nearby quarters, attracted by the noise, came out to see what was going on.

Ignoring the gathering crowd, B'Elanna went to steady Harry Kim. He was leaning against the wall, holding his already swelling jaw, a slight cut above his right eye trickling blood down the side of his face. His lower lip was puffing up and bleeding where it had been forced against his teeth by the blow. 

"I'm fine," Kim snarled, wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth with his fist. "But I don't know what the hell is going on!"

Torres spun on Natwick. "What is going on, George? You better have a damn good reason---"

"Ask your little friend about Malista!" Natwick growled. 

"What does Malista have to do with this?" Paris demanded, pushing the man more forcefully against the wall. 

"You can let go now, Lieutenant Paris! We'll take it from here," announced the familiar voice of Ensign Mikel Hudson. The Security man appeared around the corner of the corridor with his partner, Ensign Ethan Simms.

They moved into position to watch the three officers, making mental notes they knew they'd need for their reports. No one moved for a moment. Simms took a step forward and stood next to Paris. 

The lieutenant stepped back, cautiously releasing his hold on Natwick. He was ready for the ensign to make a charge at him. He almost would welcome it---for the release of adrenaline if nothing else. It had been an---aggravating evening all around. 

George turned slowly, shaking his head. He eyed Lieutenant Tom Paris with a new sense of respect as he discreetly rubbed his shoulder. "You want to show me that move sometime?" he requested, his professional interest suddenly kicking in as his unexpected burst of temper cooled. 

Paris frowned disbelievingly at Natwick, looking from him to Harry Kim. He shrugged. "Maybe---if I won't have to use it on you again. It works best when you pick on someone your own size." A scathing look convicted Natwick of being a bully. "Now would you like to explain why you hit Ensign Kim? And what does it have to do with my sist---Malista Shadow?"

Simms moved between Paris and Natwick, ready to take his fellow security officer into custody---and to deflect the lieutenant if his apparently ragged control over his temper should slip. Hudson flanked their prisoner on the other side.

"I want him to apologize to Malista," Natwick stated loudly. "He owes her an apology!"

"That's where I was going when you hit me, you big jerk!" Kim shouted. "What business is it of yours anyway?!" He pushed away from the wall, taking a step toward his attacker, only to be body-blocked by B'Elanna Torres.

"She made it my business!" Natwick suddenly realized they had an audience. No matter how angry he was, he wasn't going to embarrass Malista by telling the world she'd tried to seduce him. He genuinely cared about her. He stopped to reconsider his next words. "I left her in her quarters! You go see her! Right now! Before she does some other stupid thing to try to make you happy!"

"What stupid thing did she do?" Harry said, immediately worried by the answers supplied by the flights of his imagination. "What were *you* doing in her quarters?" His voice rose belligerently. "What did you do to her?"

Natwick refused to answer. He shook his head in stubborn silence.

"I assume the charge is assaulting an officer?" Hudson asked coolly. 

Paris nodded, dissecting Natwick with his eyes. 

"We'll need a statement from you for our report," Simms stated. Paris nodded again. Simms and Hudson gestured for Natwick to lead the way. The three of them headed for the brig. 

Harry tossed an anxious look at Tom and B'Elanna. "I'm going to check on Malista. Thanks, Tom." He took off at a run.

Paris started to follow. Torres snagged his arm. "Tom! Let him handle it. It's not your responsibility."

"Harry should go to Sickbay---" He started to argue. 

"He's a big boy. He can find his way there by himself. I have a question for you," she said, frowning up at him. He raised his eyebrows. 

There was another loud thunk and a yell from the corridor behind them. "What the---Now what?" 

Torres raised her eyebrows. "That sounded like---Freddie Bristow?

"Uh-oh! Dalby must have caught up with him! I tried to tell Bristow he shouldn't bother Diane! When is that kid going to learn to take no for an answer?" Paris threw an exasperated look skyward. "This has been some night! Is this some kind of a test?"

B'Elanna grinned at him as she took his hand. "That's what I said! Let's go pick up the pieces---of Freddie!"

*******************

Malista was still cursing---in fluent Greek. She was also cleaning her quarters---or tearing them apart. It was difficult to guess her intention from first impressions.  
Every drawer, storage compartment, and closet had been turned out. Every piece of furniture now held piles of her clothing and belongings.

Harry hit the door signal. Malista didn't answer. The door was unlocked. He took a deep breath and went in without an invitation. "Malista?"

Her back was toward the door. He saw her spine stiffen, but she didn't turn. She kept folding articles of clothing and rearranging them in the drawers in her sleeping area. "What do you want?" she said abruptly.

"Are you all right?"

She jumped guiltily. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Harry decided to leave well enough alone. Whatever Natwick had been referring to---it was obvious Malista was fine---physically. She was more than fine. She was beautiful. "I came to---tell you I'm sorry." 

She didn't respond. She refused to even look at him. She kept her eyes fixed on the tasks of folding, sorting, and putting away the entire contents of her closet and storage facilities.

"I wanted to apologize five minutes after I left that night, but I was afraid--- you wouldn't want to---I didn't think you'd listen to me."

She kept her eyes on what she was doing. "Why should I listen now?" She told herself not to get her hopes up. He was going to say he just wanted to be friends. He didn't want to jeopardize his friendship with Tom. She didn't want to hear the 'let's be friends' speech again. 

'Oh, gods!' she thought. ' I wonder if he's heard the rumors! Maybe he wants to know if it's true!'

"Because I am sorry. I would do anything to make it up to you---I never meant to hurt you." A note of pleading had entered the young man's voice. 

Her shoulders slumped as she leaned over, resting her hands on the table for support, still facing the wall. "Then why did you?" she asked in a very small voice.

"I don't know," he replied hesitantly. She looked so lovely. He'd missed her so much. His eyes were drawn to her those long, silky legs and the curve of her bottom as she bent over the table. The sleeve of her blouse had slipped further off her shoulder exposing even more creamy gold skin. 

He quickly fixed his eyes on the ceiling. If he looked at her---he'd never be able to think of what he wanted to say. He'd only want to touch her---and never let her go.

She snapped upright and marched into the living area to pick up another stack of her belongings. "That's a lie. You know why. You just don't want to tell me. I don't want to play games, Harry. I told you that night at the resort---I'm not good at playing games. So just get out of my quarters!" 

"No," he said flatly. "That's the mistake I made last time. I shouldn't have left. I should have stayed and talked to you---honestly---whether you wanted to talk to me or not." 

She threw her armload on the bed and crossed her arms. She leaned against the wall and studied her fingertips. "So if you want to talk---go ahead. Talk."

He used the back of his hand to rub a trickle of blood off his chin, stifling a moan as he brushed against his swollen lip. "Okay. You want to know why I ranted like an idiot and accused you of being interested in other men?"

She nodded. She refused to look at him. She didn't dare look at him. If she looked into his dark eyes, saw his sweet smile, it would be too easy to forget about demanding explanations and just beg him to kiss her, to hold her. 

"I was jealous. And insecure," he admitted. He sank down on her couch without waiting for an invitation. Hitting the wall had left him feeling a little dizzy. "I couldn't believe you could be interested in plain, Harry Kim. You're just so--- beautiful---and charming. What man wouldn't want you?"

"Yeah, sure," she snorted. "You were jealous---of me?" She found it hard to believe. Her faith in her own attractiveness had always been shaky---and now---after her failed attempt with George Natwick---she wasn't ready to believe what anyone--- any MAN said. If she was so charming, why the hell couldn't she keep a man interested in her for more than five minutes? 

"It's irrational---but it's true. I know you spent all your time with me---but I saw the way other men looked at you---I began to think---I couldn't compete---and I began to wonder if you might---"

She broke in, while she could still keep the tears at bay. "Why did you come here tonight?"

"To apologize," Harry reiterated. "I've wanted to for days, weeks---I didn't think you'd listen. I didn't know how to begin to explain---to make you see---I know I hurt you---"

She crossed to the table, picked up another pile of clothing and tossed it onto the bed. She came back into the living area and walked to her desk, eyes downcast. "Okay. Harry. I forgive you. Now, go away." She held her breath while she waited to see if he would take her at her word. She meant every word of it. She had to know now if he was playing games.

"Malista, let me finish," he said levelly.

She was relieved he wasn't going to give up easily. Maybe that meant he was sincere. He really did care about her. She sank into the chair at her desk. She wasn't sure her shaky knees could support her weight. He sounded so calm, so rational. 

He sounded funny. It almost sounded like Harry had unexpectedly developed a speech impediment. His words were the slightest bit slurred. Had he been drinking? To get the courage to come here? 

She was appalled at the idea and almost looked at him, but she was too embarrassed. She was afraid he'd look into her eyes and she'd agree to anything he said, if he'd only take her back. She couldn't do that. She'd grown too much as a person to be a doormat for anyone---even for someone she loved.

Harry was still speaking. "Everyone on the ship treats me like I'm their little brother---everyone except you. I felt---insecure---because I couldn't believe you really could be interested in me---romantically. Other women pat me on the head and tell me I'm sweet---or cute. You were looking to me to be the leader---in our relationship---and I think the responsibility just kind of scared me. Sort of like getting cold feet? And then I couldn't talk to anyone about it. I was too shy to ask Tom---anyone about---" He stopped to swallow hard. When he continued, his voice had dropped almost to a whisper. "About sex. I know about Huldon III---and I---"

"You didn't want to soil yourself?" she supplied in a hard voice.

"No!" he protested. "Malista, I didn't want to traumatize you even more by fumbling--I mean, to tell you the truth--the only person I've ever slept with was---" He clamped his lips together as he remembered Tom's warning about bringing up the L word.

"Libby," she supplied sadly.

He got to his feet slowly, his eyes studying her as she sat slumped in the chair. "Malista, I've said goodbye to Libby. I don't mean to compare you---but she's the only experience I've got to fall back on---I mean---I don't know what I mean."

"Harry," she said, her eyes on her hands as she twisted her and untwisted her fingers. "Let me tell you something. I should have told you before---before we ever---got involved. When I was fourteen, my older brothers left home to join the Maquis. Two years later they were killed by the Cardassians. That's when I joined the Maquis, along with two friends, Jano and Lanal. When I left, my father told me I was a fool. Our colony was in no immediate danger from the Cardassians. I told him I wanted to help the Maquis in any way I could. On Huldon III, Jano and Lanal were killed--- and Niko kept me alive---even when I didn't want to live."

She stopped to take a sobbing breath. Her face was hidden by her hair as she bent her head. "After the rape---when I was able to get out of bed---I called home---to talk to my father---"

"Malista," Harry interrupted, his heart was aching at seeing her pain. He hovered behind her chair, his hand outstretched toward her shoulder---then he let it drop to his side, afraid she would shrug it away---or recoil in distaste from his touch.

"Let me finish! I asked my father if I could come home. He wanted to know why---and when I told him---he said---" A sob escaped her. "He said I had no home there any more. I had made my bed---and I could lie in it with the Maquis scum I had chosen over my own family." She coughed to clear her throat. 

"Then---Niko died. And Tom convinced me that I could start a new life here on Voyager---with the crew as my family---Harry, I've lost too many people. I can't play games with relationships. I don't think I could take another loss. It almost killed me to lose you once---I couldn't do it again. So, please, if you aren't sure---don't---just don't---" Her voice failed her. She stretched her arm out on the desk and lay her head down atop her forearm.

When Harry could trust himself to speak, he blurted, "I am sure. I'm sure I want to try again, Malista. I'm sorry I hurt you---and myself by walking away. I won't do that again. I want a relationship with you---if you'll give me another chance. I think I'm falling in love with you!" For a long moment, she didn't move or speak. Maybe she didn't feel the same way. Maybe he'd really blown it---forever. 

She sighed as she straightened in the chair, struggling to regain her composure. She didn't know what to say. What if he hadn't heard the rumor? And he found out after they made up? What if he found about George? If he was jealous before, without reason---how much worse would it be if he thought he did have a reason. He'd think she lied---

She couldn't go through the process of losing him again. She hadn't recovered from the grief of losing him the first time. But he sounded sincere. "Why tonight, Harry? Why did you choose tonight of all nights to come apologize?"

Silence.

She waited. 

He cleared his throat. "I talked to B'Elanna tonight and she helped me think a little more clearly about what I wanted. And how stupid I was not to talk to you about the way I felt---the things that were worrying me. Then when I was on my way here to talk to you, I---ran into George Natwick."

Malista felt the blood freezing in her veins. She covered her face with both hands, mumbling, "Oh, Merde! He told you! I can't believe he *told* you!" Her humiliation was now complete. 

"He didn't tell me anything, Malista," Harry corrected, upset that he'd managed to distress her further. "He just said for me to come and apologize to you---tonight---before you did some other stupid thing to make me happy. When he said you were trying to make me happy, I thought maybe---there was a chance---that you still cared! What stupid thing did you do, Malista? What was he talking about?"

"STUPID!" she shrieked, leaping to her feet. "He said it was stupid! That overgrown, muscle-bou---" Her diatribe stopped in mid-syllable as she whirled to confront Harry and got a good look at him for the first time. Her eyes dilated their full width. 

"*Harry*!" she exclaimed, horrified. "What happened to your face?"

Harry was frozen in place by surprise, hope, and happiness at her reaction. She did still care about him. He hadn't killed all her feelings for him with his asinine insecurity.

She rushed toward him, her hand outstretched to lightly touch his face, tipping it up towards the light so she could get a better look. The cut above his eye had bled continuously, leaving a trail down the length of his face and neck, soaking into the collar of his shirt. The right side of his jaw was rapidly turning blue, as was his swollen lower lip. She winced sympathetically. No wonder his speech sounded slurred. "Harry," she whispered, "why aren't you in Sickbay?"

"It was more important that I come talk to you," he said gently. Taking advantage of her nearness, he slipped his arm around her waist and tried to pull her closer. "What happened to your lip?" He frowned as he noted her lower lip was puffy and had been bleeding. 

"I bit my lip. It doesn't matter." She caressed the uninjured side of his face. "Oh, your poor face! My poor Dark Angel! Darling, does it hurt very much?" She stiffened with outrage. "Who *did* this? Did Tom---" 

Harry, who'd been enjoying her commiseration and touch, had hoped they could spend a little more time talking and making up while she tended his wounds ---before it occurred to her to ask who'd inflicted them---and why. "No! Of course it wasn't Tom!" 

Her hands tightened on his shoulders. "Then who?" Her eyes narrowed to slits. "George? George Natwick did this?" She didn't wait for Kim's nod of confirmation before she whirled out of his arms. "He tells you I'M doing STUPID things---and then he HITS YOU! I am going to beat that man senseless and drag him down to the brig by his heels!" She looked ferocious, like a Valkyrie in one of his medieval literature holoprograms. He was glad she was on his side.

A smile tugged at his lips and he groaned at the pull of the sore spot. 

She was at his side again instantly, all her concern for him. "Harry, you need to go to Sickbay." She cupped his chin in her palm. 

"Malista," he said. She looked into his dark eyes. This time he let his eyes do the smiling and kept his mouth still. "You don't have to get George. Tom already did. Simms and Hudson took Natwick to the brig. Before I came here."

"Good. Then there's no reason we can't go to Sickbay right now!" she insisted, tugging at him to get him moving. 

"I don't think I have the strength to walk that far," he said plaintively.

Her stricken green eyes flew to his.

"Unless you give me a kiss first," he finished.

"Since we both have sore lips---" She gave him a warning smile, but dipped her head to carefully brush her lips against the left side of his mouth. "That's about as good as we can do right now," she sighed. "Until we get you taken care of in Sickbay."

"Sickbay, Sickbay. I never knew you were such a nag," he protested jokingly, as she linked their arms and escorted him out to the corridor. "But I think I like it." 

"There are a lot of things you don't know about me, Harry. And vice versa. Promise me one thing?" she asked seriously. He nodded carefully. "No more games. You can talk to me about anything---no matter how---embarrassing. And I'll talk to you. Any time. Because I think I'm falling in love with you, too."

He began walking twice as fast. "Come on. Let's get to Sickbay. I want to have my lip and yours taken care of, so I can kiss you properly!"

She laughed and matched his pace. 

***************

Sickbay was rather crowded when they arrived. The doctor was attending to Freddie Bristow, who was lying on the biobed in the surgical bay. Lieutenants Tuvok, Torres, and Paris were standing near the doctor's office dispassionately and unsympathetically observing Freddie's moans, groans, and flinches as he submitted to treatment. 

Captain Janeway and Commander Chakotay were near the Sickbay entrance speaking in quiet tones to Kes who seemed to be giving them a report. Near the wall, Ensigns Hudson and Simms, looking suitably menacing, were guarding their new prisoner.

Harry and Malista entered, looked around, and found an empty biobed to sit on as they waited for the doctor to be free. 

"I feel really dumb, Mik," Ethan Simms complained under his breath. He shot a sidewise glance at the prisoner and shook his head. "I feel like a---hulking brute." Since he was only of average size, it was not a feeling to which he was accustomed. 

Mikel rolled his eyes and looked at his partner, over their prisoner's head. "It's the job, Ethe. You arrest the guilty party---whether you feel dumb or not."

Their petite prisoner craned her neck and gazed from one to the other with defiant brown eyes. "Oh, both of you be quiet! If Security would keep that menace, Bristow, from pestering everyone with his hormone overload, this would never have happened!"

Ethan flinched from the scathing tone he'd never expected to hear from Diane Russell, the ship's librarian. She was usually the shyest, quietest---well, not any more!

Crewman Dalby charged into Sickbay and came right to their prisoner. "Diane! Are you all right?"

"I told you I could take care of myself, Aron," she sniffed indignantly. "Why do you think I took that self-defense course?"

Dalby beamed at her proudly. "Did you break his jaw?"

"No, fortunately, she did not," Commander Chakotay replied. He'd finished his conference with the captain, spoken to the doctor, and was now ready to deal with the---criminal in this case. He had to work hard to keep a straight face. It made him look sterner than usual. "Mr. Bristow is not seriously injured. His nose is broken and he's suffering from---multiple contusions to---various parts of his body." He cleared his throat. He didn't choose to be more specific. It would have made it harder to keep from laughing.

"Does she have to go to the brig?" Dalby asked anxiously. 

Diane didn't seem overly concerned by the prospect. She was still seething with anger at Freddie Bristow's refusal to believe that 'No' meant 'NO!'---not 'maybe'. She was none too happy with the security team who'd placed her under arrest either. She glowered at her guards as if tempted to demonstrate her self-defense expertise on them as well.

While Russell hadn't exactly resisted arrest, she'd come close to it. Simms and Hudson had been grateful for the presence of Lieutenants Paris and Torres, who'd persuaded her it would only postpone the inevitable if she didn't accompany the Security team--- peacefully. Hudson and Simms again exchanged nervous looks over her head. It would have been difficult for them to find the will to defend themselves if attacked---by this small woman. Not to mention that no matter what the outcome they would have felt humiliated. 

Chakotay bit the inside of his cheek to stifle a chuckle. Ethan and Mikel were extremely easy to read. "Actually, I think we've come to an agreement---if you don't press charges for sexual harassment, Mr. Bristow will not press charges against you for assault."

Dalby started to roar a protest, but halted without a word when Diane held up her dainty hand. She frowned sternly up at the first officer with her 'librarian look'---the one that made people lower their voices automatically when they entered her milieu. "Will that include a promise that Mr. Bristow will leave me alone in the future?" 

Chakotay nodded. "Of course." He whispered conspiratorially, " I think, Diane, that when you threw him against the wall, it may have knocked some sense into him. If that didn't do it, the kick to the---ribs---when he was on the floor finally convinced him. I think he's absolutely sure this time that you honestly aren't interested in him romantically."

"Then I'm dismissed?" she asked snippily.

The commander nodded. Mikel and Ethan tensed as she glowered at them once more before flouncing out of Sickbay with a beaming Dalby on her heels. 

Mikel shuddered and shook his head. "Aron Dalby must have it bad!" 

Ethan nodded sagely. "I can't believe Aron Dalby---and Diane Russell."

Chakotay grinned at Simms. "And how is Janine Lamont doing this days, Ethan?" 

Simms blushed furiously. "Aw, c'mon!" 

The first officer took pity on him. "You two are dismissed."

Hudson and Simms left to go back to the Security section---until they received another call. Or until their shift ended. Whichever came first. Usually the graveyard duty shift was much quieter. Maybe there was a full moon---somewhere.

Captain Janeway was inspecting Harry's bruises. Chakotay went to join her. He noticed that Malista Shadow was sitting next to the ensign on the biobed, her arms wrapped around him protectively. Harry was holding onto her for dear life, looking more alive and alert than he had in weeks---in spite of his injuries.

Paris and Torres drifted over to the impromptu meeting as well. "Well, Harry? Well, Sis?"

"We're officially back together again," Harry announced, looking to her for affirmation. She smiled bashfully and ducked her hot face into his neck. His shy  
sweetheart would never feel comfortable with being the center of attention. That was all right with him. He didn't like it much himself. "And this time," he added, "we're staying together!" His arm tightened around her. She squeezed him tightly in silent agreement. 

"That's wonderful, Mr. Kim," Janeway said with a cool, tight smile. "Now can we discuss how you come to be in Sickbay?" 

"Mr. Natwick is in the brig for inflicting Mr. Kim's injuries, Captain," Lieutenant Tuvok reported. "Ensigns Simms and Hudson are awaiting statements from Ensign Kim and Lieutenants Paris and Torres in order to complete the incident report."

Harry Kim and Tom Paris exchanged speaking looks. "Uh, well---." Harry began.

"Leave him in the brig to rot," Malista growled under her breath, tenderly stroking Harry's throat with one hand.

"It wouldn't hurt him a bit," Torres agreed mercilessly. If Natwick had hurt Tom, she would have been the first to vote to eject the man out an airlock.

Janeway raised an eyebrow at Chakotay. 

He shrugged. He didn't know how George Natwick hadn't gotten involved in this affair either. Or why Malista and B'Elanna would feel such antagonism for him.

Paris tried to mollify Torres, drawing her aside and leaving Kim to deal with Shadow. "Come on, B'Ella! George isn't such a bad guy! He didn't hurt Harry much--" He could tell that line of reasoning wasn't going over well so he abandoned it in less than a heartbeat. "B'Ella, if he hadn't---made a fool of himself--- those two might have dragged their heels for weeks before they kissed and made up!" 

That was a telling argument. Paris had no grudge against Natwick. He'd actually done them all a favor by facilitating Kim and Shadow's reconciliation. Besides, who wanted to waste time in the Security Office filling out reports? 

"I was getting awfully tired of talking to everyone about their problems," she admitted, for Tom's ears alone. She grimaced. "Oh, who cares about George Natwick? He can live for all I care," she said generously.

Harry had come to the same conclusion as Paris. If George hadn't hit him and aroused Malista's sympathy for Harry's injuries---it might have taken hours to get to the kissing and making up part. With a little persuasion and, to be honest, the shameless use of his bruises to garner sympathy, Kim brought Malista around to the same viewpoint. 

His most telling argument was that George had wanted Malista---and didn't get her. Kim told her that was punishment enough---for any man. That singular piece of romantic nonsense was enough to melt her opposition to setting the ensign free. She told Harry she would leave it up to him. 

She'd think of another way to get even with Natwick---herself. George had not only rejected her---never mind, that she was glad he had---but he had *hit* Harry! Her friend, Jenny Delaney, would help her think of something appropriate. Harry just didn't understand. Revenge was a moral imperative. Especially for a Greek.

Cheerfully unaware of the plots hatching in his quiet beloved's head, Kim turned back to his senior officers. "What happens to Natwick if I don't press charges?"

"Mr. Natwick will be released," Tuvok stated. "However, there is still the matter of Mr. Paris' assault on Mr. Natwick."

B'Elanna thrust herself in front of Tom, ready to protest but was stayed by Captain Janeway's uplifted palm. "I think that since Mr. Paris was trying to restrain Mr. Natwick from assaulting Mr. Kim, his actions were justified. Has Mr. Natwick expressed any interest in filing counter-charges against Mr. Paris?"

"No, Captain," Tuvok replied. "His only apparent interest is in persuading Mr. Paris to instruct him in the use of the grappling hold used to subdue him."

"You have to admire a man who's single-minded about improving his work," Chakotay said, tongue firmly in cheek. 

Harry and Tom grinned. Kathryn, Malista, and B'Elanna frowned at him. 

Chakotay waved his hand. "It's a guy thing."

The doctor's astringent tones floated from behind the group. "If you people could relocate this conference to another room, I would be able to treat my patients promptly."

Janeway smiled at the fussy hologram indulgently. "Of course, Doctor. Feel better, Harry." She departed with Chakotay and Tuvok to have a little talk with Ensign Natwick before he was released from the brig.

The doctor ran a scanner over Harry's injuries. "Crewman Shadow, you are in my light. Could you please get off the biobed?"

"No," she refused flatly. She leaned in closer to Harry Kim, carefully moving out of the doctor's light as she kissed Harry's throat.

The doctor eyed her appraisingly. "Very well, if you insist on taking Mr. Kim's pulse with your lips, at least sit still so I can work around you," he ordered.

He was surprised when she grinned at him impudently. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

"She's a patient too, Doc. She bit her lip," Kim said, hoping to appease the doctor.

"She bit her *own* lip?" The doctor eyed him skeptically. 

Harry Kim reddened in embarrassment at the implied criticism. "Yes. She did."

Malista giggled. The doctor nodded, but refrained from further comment to Harry's relief. 

A few feet away, Tom and B'Elanna watched in amusement as the Doctor worked around Harry and Malista who were as close to each other as if they were Siamese twins. 

"I'm glad they made up," B'Elanna commented. "I hope he doesn't hear about those rumors---"

"Oh, he heard about them, before we did," Paris mentioned casually.

"What? How do you know?"

"Ethan Simms told me. While you were talking to Diane. He said he and Mik heard the rumor two days ago---when someone was telling it to Harry in the messhall."

"And Harry didn't believe it?"

"Of course not," Paris scoffed, as he'd never been concerned about the possibility. "He said they were all nuts. As a matter of fact, Harry is the one who made the safety net in the holodeck fifty percent larger. He found out about the circus program---because he snooped. Our troubles are over---I'd take bets that some day Harry will be my brother-in-law---sort of."

B'Elanna smiled at him suggestively. "Just one more thing---"

"What?"

"You want to show me that move you made? The one that let you pin George Natwick---though he's got at least thirty-five pounds of solid muscle on you?" She smiled up at him proudly. 

He pretended to think it over. "Naw. I don't think so."

"Why not?" she said indignantly.

He gazed down at her thoughtfully. "I wouldn't want to give away my secret. I never know when I might need it."

"Uh-huh. And another question? Where did you learn that?"

"You'd be surprised the things you learn in prison, B'Elanna." His blue eyes were teasing her. 

She let that one go. "Why did you push me behind you when you went after Natwick? Trying to protect me?" It didn't sound like the idea pleased her much, but then sometimes it was hard to tell with B'Elanna Torres.

"I didn't want you to get hurt," he said simply. He wasn't going to make any promises not to do it again if the situation arose. He didn't like to make promises he had no intention of keeping.

She brought her chin up. "I don't think you should worry about protecting me. I'm half Klingon, Paris. I'm stronger than you."

"Tough. I'll worry about you if I want to. You may be half Klingon, but I'm bigger than you. I don't know whether you're stronger than me or not," he noted objectively. "I don't really think we need to test that theory."

"Are you afraid I'm going to hurt you?" she mocked.

He straightened, folded his arms across his chest and narrowed his eyes at her. His posture and every gesture shrieked defiance and self-confidence. "I don't think so," he said, enunciating each syllable distinctly.

A brilliant smile burst free, illuminating her whole being. She'd found the right man! He wasn't merely intrigued by her Klingon side, and he wasn't intimidated by it either. Whether he realized it or not, Tom Paris had just told her plainly that he trusted her--- trusted her not to hurt him. She'd been looking for him her whole life!

Exuberantly, she threw herself at him. He wasn't sure what he'd said right--- but he wrapped his arms around her, lifted her off her feet, and brought her up to his level, holding her against him in a bear hug as he kissed her. Her feet dangled six inches above the floor. 

"Excuse me!" the doctor's voice said loudly. 

Paris and Torres, breathing hard, turned dazzled eyes toward him. 

The doctor gestured from them to Harry and Malista who'd been testing how well their lips had been healed. "You are all dismissed!" he said plaintively. "This is a Sickbay, not the Tunnel of Love!"

"Sorry, Doc," Paris said sheepishly. He set B'Elanna on her feet, took her hand and sprinted for the exit, both of them laughing all the way down the corridor as they argued about their destination.

Harry and Malista slipped off the biobed, both of them blushing furiously. "Sorry, Doctor. We---uh---"

The hologram waved an impatient, dismissive hand. 

They strolled out of Sickbay, arms around each other. "What was that you called me? Earlier? In your cabin."

"Dark Angel," she murmured. "That's---it's always been my nickname for you. If you don't like it, I won't---"

"Angel? Me? I look angelic?" Harry's face beamed. Angelic was so much more flattering than 'cute'. 

"To me you do. Angelic and---sexy at the same time. What about me? Do you have a pet name for me?" Malista teased.

"Hmmm. Let me think." Harry slipped one hand down her smooth thigh. "How about Silky?"

"Uh-uh," she rejected. She grasped his hand and put it back on her waist.

He slid his hand down to cup her bottom. "How about Sugar Buns?"

She slapped his hand away, trying to keep from laughing. "No!" 

He draped his hand over her shoulder and started inching it down. "Or Peaches?" He felt joy bubbling up in him like a fountain.

She snatched his hand and replaced it on her waist, this time holding it in place with her own. "I'm sure you'll think of something," she said. "Gawaine."

"Gawaine? Is that another one? Who's Gawaine?"

She just smiled. "Where are we going?"

"How about the holodeck? You can start teaching me to be your catcher."

"How do you know---"

Harry pretended to be shocked. "I'm the Operations Officer. I know everything. Now, you've got to teach me how to fly---anything Tom can do---I can do better." She grinned at him. "And Malista, who's Gawaine? The name sounds familiar---"

 

The ship gossips blamed George Natwick for upsetting the betting pool by intervening as a matchmaker. The odds of Shadow and Kim getting back together had settled at six to one. The only two gamblers who won a great number of replicator rations by betting on a reconciliation---were Ethan Simms and Mikel Hudson who were accused of having inside information. The two of them just smiled---and weren't seen in the messhall for three straight weeks.


End file.
